<?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-5374330586101505250</id><updated>2011-09-20T10:04:29.984-06:00</updated><title type='text'>surviving (and finding JOY!) amidst the trials of life</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-4966320286987211775</id><published>2010-10-24T22:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T22:23:54.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Take Something</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't blogged in a very (very!) long time.  But with the weather changes and the way I've been feeling,  I think it would be completely beneficial and therapeutic for me to do so.  Tonight I found this article that is worth a read.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.invisibledisabilities.org/educate/invisibleawareness/justtakesomething/"&gt;Just Take Something&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll be posting more soon ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-4966320286987211775?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4966320286987211775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=4966320286987211775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4966320286987211775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4966320286987211775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/10/just-take-something.html' title='Just Take Something'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-6831357389730531830</id><published>2010-04-27T10:48:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T11:28:32.433-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A "Bit" About Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Get it - "bit" - "bit by a tick?"  Hmm ... okay, I'm not going to try and be funny right now.  Because it's obviously not working :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I was born.  I lived a life.  And then the diagnoses started coming.  Still living a life.  And trying to find JOY in the midst of my trials.  Here's a little "bit" about me ...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I was always a happy, positive, outgoing, active kid. I remember, as a teenager, people always telling me, "I wish I had as much energy as you!"  In high school and college, I was known as the "social butterfly."  I was involved.  I was a cheerleader in high school, a National Officer for FCCLA, a member of Student Council.  In college, I got involved in choirs and in 1998-99, I was a singer/dancer for a group called Showtime Company at Ricks College in Idaho.  I always loved to be busy, involved and active.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I was in the prime of my life.  20 years old and doing what I loved to do more than anything else.  In the summer of 1999, while on a tour with Showtime to the Southern United States, our group did some volunteer service work where we helped a farmer clean his fields after a devastating tornado had hit.  I remember lots of people finding ticks on them afterward.  And we all laughed and joked about it at the time.  I never found a tick on me, so I thought that I was one of the "lucky" ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Not too long after the tour, I came down with a horrible flu-like virus that landed me in the hospital.  I didn't think much of it at the time, just chalking it up to a sickness that college kids get.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;But then the foot pain started.  That was the first time I really started seeing doctors.  A lot.  None of them knew why my foot was in so much pain.  I had one doctor put me in a "boot" and had me on crutches.  For SIX months! (I had really buff arms by the end of that summer!)  My foot, however, went from a tiny bit of pain in my heels, to excruciating, "I can't walk on this," swollen and inflammed, red, puffy, huge "sausage toes."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I had to drop out of school for the semester as my health continued to get worse.  That fall (1999), my mom's friend recommended a doctor that she knew in Winnemucca, Nevada, who had treated her for Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophe (RSV).  At that point, my mom and I were desperate to know what was going on and were willing to make the long drive to Nevada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;That doctor (I wish I could remember his name), was the first one to start me out on the correct path of knowing "what was wrong with me."  He told me that I had arthritis.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Hmm ... arthritis?  In a 20 year old?  I thought that's what 75 year old ladies with crooked fingers had.  What did it mean for me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Well - what it meant was two more years of doctors and tests and pain (that kept spreading to different joints throughout my body) before I finally was diagnosed with the right kind of arthritis and started on some treatment that actually (FINALLY! GASP!) alleviated some of my pain.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;In 2000, I had made the decision to serve as a missionary for my church.  Most times girls are asked to serve for 18 months.  But, while I was serving, in Hawaii, my body started to completely deteriorate.  It got so bad that I couldn't even get dressed or eat without the help of my missionary companion.  I was SO willing to do the work.  I WANTED to work hard!!!  I WANTED to be active!!  But my body was not able.  Since I couldn't follow the vigorous routines, I came home early.  Those were hard, dark months for me.  I lived in a tiny town in the middle of Idaho and felt completely isolated and alone.  All I could do was lay on the couch.  My mom would fix my meals and even feed me, at times.  She'd rub my feet.  She took care of me.  I remember thinking in those days, "I'll never be able to get married! Or have kids! Or lead a 'normal' life!"  I fell into a deep depression.  One morning, in particular, I will never forget.  I had been sleeping in my mom's bedroom (because I couldn't walk up the stairs to get to my own).  It was Easter Sunday and my mom had gone to church early to do something.  I remember waking up and having to go to the bathroom.  The bathroom was RIGHT across the hall from the bedroom.  Probably only 20 feet or so away from the bed.  I tried to get up and walk, but I couldn't stand on my feet.  So, having fallen to the floor, I tried to pull myself in a crawl, towards the bathroom, but my arms were in so much pain that I couldn't do that either.  I just laid on the ground there, in a pathetic heap, and cried.  And prayed.  My mom came home right after that, miraculously, and was able to help me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;These are times that were so hard for me that I've mentally blocked a lot of those days out of my memory.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;In 2001, I started seeing a doctor 2 hours away in Nampa, Idaho.  After having tried MULTIPLE Rheumatoid Arthritis drugs (including the steroid prednisone, which had awful side affects; and the chemotherapy drug Methotrexate, which made me lose some hair and throw up a lot) she put me on a drug, that was quite new at the time, called Enbrel.  It was an injection that I would give myself two times a day.  Imagine my shock and surprise when this new drug started WORKING!!  Within a few months, I was feeling (almost) back to my old self!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I started to see a light at the end of a tunnel that had been very long and winding.  I felt good enough to try and go back to college.  I applied, and was accepted, to Southern Virginia University.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;The next few years (9 years, to be exact) have had their ups and downs.  I've remained on the Enbrel, giving myself weekly injections for these last nine years.  I've seemed to live a fairly "normal" life - and those who do not know of my health struggles and my past will likely not even know that I am chronically sick.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I've been able to marry (the most amazing and supportive man in the world!) and although we haven't been able to get pregnant (chalk infertility up to this too), we have had the most blessed opportunity of adopting a perfect little baby boy.  We are happy.  And we are blessed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;But recently, I've been thinking and pondering our situation.  A lot.  I feel like over the past few months, my mind has been opened and for the first time since I was bitten by that tick so long ago, things are starting to fall into place, have a timeline and make sense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;In 2007, I had a doctor say to me, "Have you ever heard of Lyme Disease?"  I had heard of it but was absolutely clueless as to what it was.  After taking my medical history, he decided to do a blood test to check and see if I had it.  Imagine my surprise when it came back POSITIVE!!  LYME DISEASE?!  What the heck IS that?!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Well, I have definitely been learning what it is.  Because my Lyme wasn't diagnosed until YEARS after I was initially bitten by a tick, it was classified as Late Stage Lyme Disease.  And by that time, it had had the opportunity to "do it's damage" and wreak havoc on my body.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Here are just SOME of the health issues I've been diagnosed with that stem back to Lyme:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Arthritis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Fibromyalgia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Infertility and Hormonal Imbalances&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Migraines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Hypothyroidism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Insomnia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Depression&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Some days are definitely harder than others.  But our little family finds a way to "make do."  We know what works for us.  I am blessed to have such a good marriage and a spouse who is really loving and supportive.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;People do tend to judge us, even when I know they don't mean to.  Because I am so sick, my husband doesn't feel like he's able to work a full time job.  There are many (if not most) days that I feel so bad I can't get out of bed for much more than a couple of hours at a time.  So my husband has taken on the responsibility of being a full time dad.  We're blessed financially, and so this works for us.  But others, on the outside looking in, don't seem to understand our situation.  Because my sicknesses are "silent diseases," people don't even know that I'm sick.  They "SEE" a healthy person.  Every time I run into an old friend or meet someone new, they ask, "What is your husband doing these days?"  Neither my husband nor I are completely comfortable in explaining our situation.  We know that we need to get over it.  I need to let myself be more open in telling others about how serious my sicknesses are and how much I NEED my husband at home.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Another thing that has become clear to me in the past months is my responsibility to share my struggles with others.  I feel that one reason I have been given these trials of health in my life is to help other people.  I know how alone I felt in the initial months of being diagnosed.  And if I can help even one person to know that they're not alone in what they're going through, then I feel like I will have succeeded in life and that my own suffering is not in vain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Now.  I'm off to a lunch date with a dear friend.  And I need to use one of my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/parable-of-spoons.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"spoons" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;to get ready.  So I'll conclude for now.  I'm sure there are many mistakes as I'm not going to proofread this before I publish it.  So bear with me.  I'll go back and correct those later. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Love, Health, and Happiness to you all!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-6831357389730531830?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6831357389730531830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=6831357389730531830' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6831357389730531830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6831357389730531830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/bit-about-me.html' title='A &quot;Bit&quot; About Me'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-5965055482657544702</id><published>2010-04-27T10:18:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T10:19:48.414-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning How to Encourage and Help Someone Living With a Chronic Condition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.invisibledisabilities.org/images/MPj04227330000[1].jpg" width="200" height="200" align="left" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#285077;"&gt;I Never Know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#285077;"&gt;What to Say or Do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Learning How to Encourage and Help&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Someone Living With a Chronic Condition&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Copyright © 200&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;4 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Invisible Disabilities Advocate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.InvisibleDisabilities.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;www.InvisibleDisabilities.org&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;ave you ever wanted to encourage someone living with a chronic illness, but it seems like you never know what to say? Moreover, when you finally think of something you just &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; will make them smile, do they &lt;i&gt;snap back&lt;/i&gt; at you with frustration?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Well, you are not alone. Because we truly want to help our friend or family member with a chronic condition, we often try to think of just the &lt;i&gt;right wor&lt;/i&gt;ds we can say to make all of the pain &lt;i&gt;vanish&lt;/i&gt; from their life. If we can just “fix it” then we will not have to see them suffer anymore. Unfortunately, when we do try to come up with a &lt;i&gt;quick answer, we&lt;/i&gt; often end up saying something that seems to &lt;i&gt;irritate&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i&gt;offend&lt;/i&gt; our loved one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;It is difficult to understand why they got upset, because to us what we had to say should have been helpful. Nonetheless, if we could simply jump into the life of our loved one, then we would see why our &lt;i&gt;well-meaning&lt;/i&gt; comments were not so &lt;i&gt;well-received.&lt;/i&gt; Often, it is our intention to help them “see the bright side” of their situation, so they can realize it is “not that bad.” &lt;b&gt;The problem is that we have then failed to &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;acknowledge&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; their battle is&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;very real&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; and we have gone on to &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;minimize&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; its impact.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sometimes we even try to point out another person who is “worse off” or try to relate by saying, “Ya, I am tired too.” Often, we disregard their limitations by attempting to talk them into doing what they know they &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;cannot&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; or &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;should not&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; do. Because we forget how anguishing it is to be ill and laid up, sometimes we even try to tell them “how lucky” they are to not have to work or clean their house.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;What’s more, we cannot resist acting as if solving the problem is so simple when we exclaim, “why can’t you &lt;i&gt;just&lt;/i&gt; take this or &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; that?” &lt;b&gt;Likewise, we want so badly for them to be feeling better, that we &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;refuse&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; to hear the truth and do not &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;allow&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; them to be open and honest with us about what they are going through.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Besides not knowing what to &lt;i&gt;say,&lt;/i&gt; we often do not know what to &lt;i&gt;do.&lt;/i&gt; We often wish we could do something to help, but do not even know where to start. Our own lives can be so overwhelming and busy that we could never fathom having the time to run errands, do chores and help clean someone else’s home too!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Nevertheless, what we fail to realize is that what might seem like an insignificant effort to us, may save our loved one an entire day or even week’s worth of energy. For example, we can pick up a few things at the store while we are already there and take out the trash when we drop them off. We can drop them by some fresh flowers, deliver a meal, bring over a video to share or pick up their dry cleaning. None of these takes much of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;our&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; time, but it can make a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;world of difference&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; to them!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;In all, we can never fully comprehend what it is like to have a chronic condition, with all of the loss and pain it poses. Yet, we know we would not want to feel this way ourselves, so surely we can see what &lt;i&gt;courage&lt;/i&gt; our loved one displays! We can even try to remember what it is like to have to put our lives on hold for even just a few days and tell our loved ones how amazed we are at their &lt;i&gt;strength&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;perseverance!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;People&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; living&lt;/span&gt; with chronic illness/pain would never &lt;i&gt;choose&lt;/i&gt; to willingly give up activities they used to enjoy! In fact, they would do &lt;i&gt;just about anything&lt;/i&gt; to get their lives back! Therefore, we can rest assured, knowing they will keep &lt;i&gt;fighting, researching &lt;/i&gt;and&lt;i&gt;pursuing &lt;/i&gt;ways to regain their lives or at least prevent further progression of the disease.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; "&gt;Yes, acknowledging what is happening to a loved one means having to deal with all of its pain, mourning and changes, but do not sell yourself short! After all, if they are &lt;i&gt;forced&lt;/i&gt;to &lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;live with it&lt;/u&gt;,&lt;/i&gt; we can certainly &lt;i&gt;choose &lt;/i&gt;to &lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;live next to it&lt;/u&gt;!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-5965055482657544702?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5965055482657544702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=5965055482657544702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5965055482657544702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5965055482657544702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/learning-how-to-encourage-and-help.html' title='Learning How to Encourage and Help Someone Living With a Chronic Condition'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-6953176063101545113</id><published>2010-04-27T10:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T10:02:21.233-06:00</updated><title type='text'>But You LOOK Good!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am SO grateful to have found this article today!!  It's as though someone took my exact thoughts and put them into words - especially the last paragraph.  It's what I'm always trying to explain to people, but something that they rarely "get."  Thank you, writers of this article!!! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#730099;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.invisibledisabilities.org/images/MPj04395490000[1].jpg" width="239" height="160" align="left" /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#285077;"&gt;But They &lt;u&gt;LOOK&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; So &lt;/span&gt;Good!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="CENTER" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Paradox of Looking Good,&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;but Feeling Bad&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Copyright © 200&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;4 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Invisible Disabilities Advocate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.InvisibleDisabilities.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;www.InvisibleDisabilities.org&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Surprisingly, "More than 125 million Americans have at least one chronic condition and 60 million have more than one condition" (Partnership for Solutions). An illness or injury is considered chronic, when it lasts a year or longer, limits activity and may require ongoing care.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Not everyone with a chronic &lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;condition&lt;/span&gt; has the same symptoms or degree of symptoms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Some have mild complications and with a little adjustment in their diets or schedules, they can lead a pretty “normal” life. Some have to make bigger changes, sacrificing various activities or their work situations in order to contend with their conditions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Others&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;become so ill they are unable to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; at all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;struggle just to meet life’s daily needs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Just about every one of us has experienced being so sick we had to stay home from work or school, because we were too sick to go. We hate being sick, because the time ticks by, the work piles up and we cannot do anything about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;We gripe and moan that we “don’t have time to be sick!” even for just a day. It is just plain miserable to be sick, in pain and debilitated - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;nobody &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;enjoys it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Often when we come across someone who says they have been sick and in pain for a long time, we might think they are either &lt;i&gt;exaggerating&lt;/i&gt; or they are not &lt;i&gt;doing &lt;/i&gt;something about it. After all, when we got sick, we got some rest, took some medication and were soon back on our feet. Moreover, when we were sick, we were pale and droopy, but they often look “perfectly normal.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;The truth is, most chronic conditions cannot be seen with the naked eye, but nevertheless are persistently keeping the person from enjoying life the way they once knew. For instance, a person can battle &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;extreme &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;fatigue and/or cognitive impairments on the inside, even though they may appear &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;healthy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;well &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;on the outside. Just the same, a person can have &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;horrible &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;pain and/or dizziness, despite the fact that to the onlooker they may look &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; "&gt;able.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;The biggest grievance those with chronic conditions have is that their loved ones often do not &lt;i&gt;believe&lt;/i&gt; what they are going through is &lt;i&gt;real&lt;/i&gt;, because to others they &lt;i&gt;“look good&lt;/i&gt;.” Sadly, this makes the person feel as if they are being called a &lt;i&gt;liar&lt;/i&gt; or a &lt;i&gt;wimp&lt;/i&gt;. This can cause great strains on relationships between friends, family members and spouses. Ironically, those with chronic conditions would like nothing more than to gain complete control of their lives and not have to adjust to any limitations at all! Nonetheless, their bodies do not always cooperate with their &lt;i&gt;desires&lt;/i&gt;, no matter how much they &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; it to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS'; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Regrettably, a &lt;i&gt;travesty&lt;/i&gt; occurs when the person not only has to contend with no longer being able to do what they &lt;i&gt;love&lt;/i&gt; to do, but also has to &lt;i&gt;battle&lt;/i&gt; for their loved one's &lt;i&gt;belief, respect&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;understanding&lt;/i&gt;. While the person with the illness/pain is &lt;i&gt;mourning&lt;/i&gt; their loss of &lt;i&gt;ability&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;freedom, &lt;/i&gt;others often &lt;i&gt;accuse&lt;/i&gt; them of just being &lt;i&gt;lazy&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i&gt;malingering.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;We must resist the temptation to make a &lt;i&gt;visual diagnosis&lt;/i&gt; by coming to the conclusion that our loved one must be &lt;i&gt;embellishing&lt;/i&gt; their situation or trying to &lt;i&gt;pull the wool over our eyes,&lt;/i&gt; because to us they &lt;i&gt;“look fine.&lt;/i&gt;” After all, when we rebut what they are telling us with, "But you &lt;i&gt;LOOK&lt;/i&gt; good," our friend really hears, "But, I don’t &lt;i&gt;believe&lt;/i&gt; you, because I can’t &lt;i&gt;see&lt;/i&gt; it."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;Frankly, it is &lt;i&gt;impossible&lt;/i&gt; for us to be compassionate, until we have &lt;i&gt;acknowledged&lt;/i&gt; there is a situation for which to &lt;i&gt;be&lt;/i&gt; compassionate! In other words, how can we say, “I am&lt;i&gt;sorry&lt;/i&gt; you are sick,” when we are always saying, “I do not &lt;i&gt;believe&lt;/i&gt; you are sick, because you don’t &lt;i&gt;look&lt;/i&gt; sick?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;People &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;living &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;with chronic conditions do not want to give up! They make efforts to laugh, smile, look their best and enjoy life, even though they know they will pay dearly for it. Because of this, we should not confuse their endeavors to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;live life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;be positive,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; with assuming they are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;feeling well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;doing better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;. Instead, let us commend them for their incredible &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;courage, perseverance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;persistence &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;that make their illnesses and injuries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;seem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; invisible to us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-6953176063101545113?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6953176063101545113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=6953176063101545113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6953176063101545113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6953176063101545113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/but-you-look-good.html' title='But You LOOK Good!'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-5894667549270686758</id><published>2010-04-27T09:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T10:10:10.676-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lyme Disease Crash Course - Everything You Need to Know in 5 Minutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;I want to raise awareness of this. I feel like I NEED to raise awareness.  I am one of those people who never even knew I was bitten by a tick and never had the "tell tale bullseye rash." Doctors suspect I had the disease for close to 10 years before I tested positive and was diagnosed. Most, if not all, of my health issues stem from this. WE NEED TO RAISE AWARENESS!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=689798&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v207/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_689798_2525.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; width: 460px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;Lyme disease gets its name from the town of Lyme, Connecticut, where the illness was first identified in the United States in 1975.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=689814&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v207/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_689814_6956.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; width: 460px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;Lyme is caused by a corkscrew-shaped bacterium, or spirochete, called Borrelia burgdorferi. Ticks infected with the bacterium spread the disease to humans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=611462&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v310/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_611462_9486.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#3B5998;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#333333;"&gt;*&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; "&gt;This was me. I didn't even know I was bitten by a tick. I never got the "bulls-eye rash." No doctor ever thought to test me for the disease since I lived in Idaho and Utah (even though I had traveled to the east and south quite a bit). I knew I had health problems, but I NEVER would have suspected Lyme Disease. Not until I had a doctor "just check" for it a couple of years ago. And lo and behold the blood test came back positive. It had sat in my system for years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=611465&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v310/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_611465_1148.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;*&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; "&gt;These symptoms, if caught early, can be erradicated. However, if the disease lays in your system for years (like mine did) without being diagnosed, they can wreak complete and utter havoc on your body. Some "issues" of mine that can most likely be traced back to Lyme Disease are Arthritis, Fibromyalgia and Infertility. There are 72 things listed here and I have had 51 of them happen to me since doctors think I was bitten by a tick in 1999. (I wasn't tested positive and diagnosed until 2007 - that's a span of 8 years that it sat in my body just wreaking havoc!) Before I was bitten, I only had experienced 5 things on this list!! There's a huge difference between 5 and 51! That right there tells you how crazy the effects of a tiny little tick can be on a human body!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=611467&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v310/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_611467_7633.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=689808&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v207/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_689808_708.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; width: 460px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;Lyme disease is a rapidly emerging infectious disease. Since it was first recognized in the United States in 1975, reports of Lyme disease have increased substantially. Factors contributing to the rise in Lyme disease in humans is a thriving tick population and the expansion of suburbs into formerly wooded areas, which increases people's exposure to infected ticks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=611470&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v271/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_611470_3276.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;The tick has a 2-year life cycle, and can infect you in any of its life stages-- larvae, nymph, and adult. In the tick's larvae stage, it is tan, the size of a pinhead, and feeds on small animals like mice. During the nymph stage, the tick is the size of a poppy seed, beige or partially transparent, and feeds on larger animals such as cats, dogs, and humans. Adult ticks are black and/or reddish and feed on large mammals such as deer, dogs, and humans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=611483&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v271/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_611483_8725.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; width: 460px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;Tick appearance/size&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-size:100%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt;*I put this image on here because you can be bitten by a larva and get Lyme Disease. It's not always the adult - the kind of tick that you typically SEE on you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="photo photo_none" style="clear: both; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;div class="photo_img" style="clear: none; line-height: 14px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=689815&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=25754076527&amp;amp;aid=-1&amp;amp;auser=0&amp;amp;oid=25754076527&amp;amp;id=19031628966" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v207/35/30/19031628966/n19031628966_689815_4126.jpg" class=" " onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; width: 460px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="clear: none; line-height: 12px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 11px; text-align: left; "&gt;More than 20,000 cases of Lyme were reported in the United States in 2006. However, because of considerable under-reporting and misdiagnosis, the Centers for Disease Control along with many Lyme disease experts speculate that the actual number of cases is at least 10 times higher--Making Lyme disease more prevalent than both West Nile Virus and HIV/AIDS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-5894667549270686758?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5894667549270686758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=5894667549270686758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5894667549270686758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5894667549270686758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/lyme-disease-crash-course-everything.html' title='Lyme Disease Crash Course - Everything You Need to Know in 5 Minutes'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-531956048211164033</id><published>2010-04-12T20:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T20:29:30.285-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Green Eyed Monster (from the Fertility Resilience blog)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fertilityresilience.blogspot.com/2010/04/slaying-myth-of-green-eyed-monster.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;http://fertilityresilience.blogspot.com/2010/04/slaying-myth-of-green-eyed-monster.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Blessedly, I don't feel this way any more.  But I will admit that, once upon a time, I did have a case of "pregnancy envy."  I'm not sure what made it go away.  Perhaps it was adopting our perfect little boy.  Maybe it was coming closer to Heavenly Father.  I'm not saying that I don't occassionaly fall back into this mode of thinking, however.  And I'm going to post this anyway in hopes that it may help some of my other dear and beautiful friends who are struggling with infertility.  You are NOT alone!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Anonymous" commented on my post about spring.  She mentioned that “as jackets and bulky winter clothes are shed, fertile bellies are much more visible” and she’s right, of course.  But what caught my attention was this:  “it seems every other woman is pregnant.  If I were a better person, I'd feel happy for them and less sorry for myself “.   It made me think of infertility, envy and the one thing that I wish I could totally obliterate with my magic wand:  women’s shame over their own invidiousness. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Because what is envy, if not an inner cry of “she has something I desperately want”?  It is like an emotional cramp that painfully reminds you of your own lack and deprivation.  So, if you are trying to build your dream family, of course you are envious of the women who have achieved that dream; of course you are resentful of the pregnant-bellied; and of course you are feeling sad for yourself.  In the many years I’ve worked with adoption, loss and infertility, I have not met a woman who, in her heart of hearts, didn’t harbor envy, rancor or bitterness.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Many women don’t admit to these feelings easily.  We are taught that envy is an ugly feeling, a shameful weakness, even a deadly sin.  But let’s challenge this concept. After all, envy, like sadness, like surprise, is just an emotion.  And it often descends upon us uninvited, just like sadness and surprise do.  We can’t inoculate against it anymore than we can inoculate against feeling blue or startled.  It’s there and it’s part of our wonderful human complexity.  The green-eyed monster is not that monstrous after all.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;True, feeling envious is usually not pleasant and the thoughts that accompany the emotion are not always pretty.  (In fact, they’re usually downright mean, petty and vengeful)  So what?  They’re just thoughts.  What’s important is that the envious feelings and bitter thoughts not become action.  So, yes, you may feel like you want to throttle the friend with the shiny SUV and the successful husband and the three-month-old in the stroller.  And yes, you may secretly wish that your sister miscarries so that her baby is not the first grandchild of the family.  But as long as you don’t act on these fantasies, you are still a perfectly good person.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Now, most of us are not likely to act out our envy. We don’t typically throttle our friend-who-has-it-all.  We don’t usually tell our sister that we hope she miscarries (and by the way, if she does lose the pregnancy, please remember that YOUR THOUGHTS DID NOT CAUSE IT!)  Actually, our envy causes mostly self-inflicted injury.  We carry guilt and shame about it.  We grieve the “better person” we used to be. And so, we feel damaged and inadequate.  Sadly, the last thing any TTC woman needs is one more item on her I’m-not-good-enough list.  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ultimately, there &lt;/b&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;are&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;b&gt; ways to feel less envious (I will talk more about them later.  For now, let me say that one way to reduce envy is to keep the focus on yourself and on what would make you less deprived or more hopeful).  But the first step is to look at your feelings  objectively and non-judgmentally, understand what they’re about, accept that they’re part of what makes you human, and then figure out how to cope with them.  Poof!"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-531956048211164033?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/531956048211164033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=531956048211164033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/531956048211164033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/531956048211164033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/green-eyed-monster-from-fertility.html' title='The Green Eyed Monster (from the Fertility Resilience blog)'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-6383492999728510524</id><published>2010-04-04T23:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T23:07:24.005-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It's been an awfully long time since I've posted anything on this blog!  Is this one of those instances in which "no news is good news?"  :)  Perhaps :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;This weekend has gotten me waxing extremely philosophical. (Conference weekend tends to do that to me!) Thinking about my life - how can I improve? In what ways am I doing okay? Where am I struggling? What is one thing I can do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt; right now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt; to be better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;When people ask me how I am, I usually just say "good!" Or "doing well, thanks." But I really started thinking tonight, "What do I REALLY feel when people ask me?" I mean, really. What does "good" or "well" mean? Because to be honest, I never really feel "good" by any means that the world uses to define that word. And I certainly am not "well" - not in the physical sense. BUT ... I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt; happy. Despite my physical pains and illnesses, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;I am happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;. So I think from now on, when people ask, "How are you?" I'm going to respond with "I'm happy, thanks!" It may catch some people off guard. But then again, maybe not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;A lot of the things that I struggle with are things that are out of my control - like health, for instance.  While driving home from my mom's house tonight, Jeff and I were talking about my hormonal issues.  We talked about how I have pregnancy symptoms almost all the time, yet I'm not pregnant.  I almost always have a headache and I feel nauseas a good portion of each week.  Then he said, "There are girls who get pregnant who don't even ever have these symptoms.  Yet you can't get pregnant, and have them all the time."  This time of year is hard on my body too - I feel the changing of the seasons in my "arthritic bones" and "fibromyalgic muscles."  I wish I could do more.  Don't get me wrong. I know that there are things that I CAN do. I am &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;super&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt; pro-active about my sicknesses. I see doctors. I see naturopaths. I see nutritionists. I am continually reading up on the latest technologies, medical breakthroughs, and latest and greatest "miracle cures" that might bring me some sort of comfort and relief. I take vitamins and use essential oils and take medications that are recommended and prescribed to me. I watch what I eat. I try to not "run faster than I have strength." But I also know that most of the health things that I struggle with daily are things that are not going to go away. At least not any time in the near future. And I've slowly come to accept this fact over the years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;And ... in the midst of all of this, I feel an immense amount of PEACE. And I AM happy. I feel blessed. I don't have a lot to complain about. I have an amazing husband (amazing!) who is patient with me, who is kind and loving and understanding. He doesn't judge me. He kindly holds my hand throughout my daily physical struggles. He serves me and our baby without complaint. Our marriage is strong. It is built on the principles of love and trust and on the foundation of Christ. We have the most perfect and beautiful little baby boy in the entire world. He is a light in our lives and brings us an immesurable amount of JOY! I know that my Redeemer lives! I have a relationship with my Heavenly Father and His son. I feel them in my life. I have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and of the sealing ordinances of the temple. I have a knowledge that I will one day be reunited with loved ones who have passed on. And I know that I will one day be able to "run and not be weary and walk and not faint" - whether that promise comes in this life, or not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;So ... what do I have to be unhappy about?! I am a wonderfully blessed woman and I am full of gratitude to my Father in Heaven because of that. I may not be "good" or "well" (in the eyes of the world), but I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt; happy. And although I might not feel like this every moment of every day, I do feel it a good portion of the time. And tonight is one of those nights.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-6383492999728510524?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6383492999728510524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=6383492999728510524' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6383492999728510524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6383492999728510524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-5516792554044092131</id><published>2009-10-29T13:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:33:51.049-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This time, you're playing for immunity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"&gt;Last weekend, the Mr. and I drove up to a neighboring county at 6:00 in the morning, to stand in line and wait for the swine flu vaccine.  But ... by the time we got there, the line was already over a mile long.  That's right.  You read that correctly over a MILE long.  So, we didn't even bothering waiting. Which was a good thing.  They only had 1700 vaccines at that clinic.  And later estimated the line was over 5,000 people long.  So ... on Tuesday morning, our very own county had a mass clinic.  And we decided to try again.  Here's what I wrote about on our personal blog later that day:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;This morning, we once again set out to try for the H1N1 vaccine ... this time right here in our very own town. We dropped the baby off at Mimi's house (thanks, Mimi!) and then drove down to the public health clinic place. We got in line at about &lt;b&gt;5:45 am&lt;/b&gt;. It was&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "&gt;FREEZING&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; cold. I told the Mr., "alright,&lt;i&gt;next&lt;/i&gt; time there's a pandemic and we have to wait in line to get vaccinated in the middle of winter (because the weather today was &lt;b&gt;just like winter&lt;/b&gt;), I'm going to come more prepared with blankets and a thermos full of hot chocolate!" Yeah, "next time" there's a pandemic. Right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;Anyway, they were going to open the doors at 8:00 am. And we got there just before 6:00. So &lt;b&gt;two hours&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;b&gt;In line&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;b&gt;In the freezing cold&lt;/b&gt;. I'm glad I wasn't a pioneer. I don't think I could have made it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;Luckily we got there when we did because they're estimating that over &lt;b&gt;4,000 people&lt;/b&gt; showed up in the line! We were about 350 people back. So not bad. It was interesting to watch the police and crowd control trying to maneuver the line. At one point we almost saw a riot. &lt;i&gt;Almost&lt;/i&gt;. But for the most part, people were really calm. Ahhh, "Happy Valley," 'tis why I love you so :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;We met some fun friends while waiting in line. The couple in front of us - they're having a baby in January. Well, technically &lt;i&gt;she's&lt;/i&gt;having the baby, but you know what I mean. We told them that the waiting in line reminded us of when we waited for the Price is Right. Which, of course, turned into a "&lt;b&gt;What?!&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;You guys were on the show?&lt;/b&gt; And you actually&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "&gt;WON THE SHOWCASE?!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;" conversation. And, my trusty techno-savvy Mr. pulled out his phone and we ended up watching the entire episode of the show that we appeared on while waiting there. Nice. That killed at &lt;i&gt;least&lt;/i&gt; 45 minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;We were SO happy by the time 8:30 rolled around and we made it &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;INTO the doors&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; of the building!! I'd never been so happy to have &lt;b&gt;HEAT&lt;/b&gt;! And a &lt;b&gt;bathroom&lt;/b&gt;! We filled out some paperwork, waited in more lines and then &lt;b&gt;it was our turn ... finally ... at about 9:15.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"&gt;3 1/2 hours of waiting in line. &lt;b&gt;Just like Disneyland&lt;/b&gt;. Or the &lt;b&gt;Price is Right&lt;/b&gt;. Only at the "end of the tunnel" instead of there being a light - or a fun ride - or a game show to be won - there was&lt;b&gt;only a stab in the arm&lt;/b&gt; waiting to be had. But ... a stab that will hopefully be worth it so that our baby doesn't get sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;Oh - on a side note, it was pretty funny (and sad ... am I horrible for thinking this is funny?) to just sit and listen once we got inside the building. It was noisy - full of CRYING kids!! Poor little things! The Mr. said, &lt;b&gt;"This is like waiting in line for Santa Claus. You wait in line forever, then sit on someone's lap and cry!"&lt;/b&gt; Ha! That was my&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;favorite quote of the entire day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. So true!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;Here's a news article link ... we were there ... in the midst of all that craziness ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=148&amp;amp;sid=8463898" style="color: rgb(128, 0, 64); text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; "&gt;http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=148&amp;amp;sid=8463898&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-5516792554044092131?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5516792554044092131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=5516792554044092131' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5516792554044092131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5516792554044092131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-time-youre-playing-for-immunity.html' title='This time, you&apos;re playing for immunity'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-5544490394366738724</id><published>2009-10-29T13:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:20:53.082-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Obviously ...</title><content type='html'>...Obviously I haven't posted on this blog for a long time. A. Long. Time.  And some of the very most exciting-est (I know that's not a word, and yes, I'm going to use it anyway) stuff of my life has happened in the months since I've posted.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most exciting being ... that ... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Actually, I will save it for later ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will post more details soon ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stay tuned!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-5544490394366738724?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5544490394366738724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=5544490394366738724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5544490394366738724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5544490394366738724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/obviously.html' title='Obviously ...'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-1448218537537664180</id><published>2009-10-29T13:08:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:21:07.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rundown</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Okay, so here's a rundown of the past 6 months ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-1448218537537664180?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1448218537537664180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=1448218537537664180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1448218537537664180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1448218537537664180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/rundown.html' title='Rundown'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-3099496859644832678</id><published>2009-10-29T13:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:21:22.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>May</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;In May, our "Summer trip extravagaanza" began.  For those who don't know, the Mr. and I appeared on a game show earlier this year and ended up winning ... the big prize at the end!  Four trips!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So ... here's a little taste of where we went.  Do these pics of the Mr. and me give the first trip away?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVf43XuGI/AAAAAAAALUs/poDdRQAvJQM/s1600-h/IMG_1050.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVf43XuGI/AAAAAAAALUs/poDdRQAvJQM/s400/IMG_1050.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398080372197537890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVfoJ_q6I/AAAAAAAALUk/sDv8pHiqjU4/s1600-h/IMG_1051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVfoJ_q6I/AAAAAAAALUk/sDv8pHiqjU4/s400/IMG_1051.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398080367712250786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And here's another trip that started off the month - complete with yours truly participating in the "American Idol Experience" at Disneyworld in Florida. (I think it's been "our year!")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVR9YdZLI/AAAAAAAALUc/JzlzGTIRYZM/s1600-h/Image056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVR9YdZLI/AAAAAAAALUc/JzlzGTIRYZM/s400/Image056.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398080132891894962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;On the adoption front, the news we got in May wasn't as encouraging.  On Wednesday, May 27th, I posted the following on our private family blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;Today has been a discouraging day. I posted a status update on Facebook about this, but I have gotten messages from a couple of you saying that you'll be checking our blog for more in depth information. So I'm just going to go ahead and include the letter that we received today (with names blanked out for privacy's sake).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to all of you for your love and prayer and concerns. We love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the email we got today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;  font-family:Helvetica;"&gt;&lt;div link="blue" vlink="purple" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;Dear families, received an email from the Attorney. Things there have been moving slowly on the safety home and social worker side. We unfortunately have given them a deadline as to the movement of this adoption of June 1st. They still seem a bit suspicious about the whole thing there is a possibility of relatives around, but the social worker is dragging feet about the advertisement so this is why we have been a bit more forceful to get them to make a decision. It may be a possibility we will have to bring in a social worker from elsewhere. We will do all that we can. If for some reason this cannot happen with these children would you consider a referral? This is just in case. I have attached the letter wrote to the SH by the Attorney.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ms __________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really do not know what to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I spoke with you, it was agreed that there was a process that needed to be followed. You then suggested I speak to Ms _______, which I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms ______ confirmed that the first step would be to find out whether both children were adoptable. It seems that there was a rumour that the child/children could have extended family living in a neighbouring community.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two options were discussed, one finding the family by physically going in to the community, the other, by advertising to see if anyone would come forward with information.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms _____ advised that the advertising costs were very high – each advertisement would cost over R1000 and this was a major problem for your organisation. I offered to seek assistance to pay those costs. I asked Ms _______ to find out exactly what the advertising amount would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took care to explain that this did&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;mean that there were conditions attached to such payment – the advertising would purely be to find the children’s families, if they exist, with a view to helping the children reunify with their families if the families were able to suitably care for them, alternatively, if no family came forward, to approach the courts to see whether the children could be declared adoptable. The possibility of the family/families consenting to the possible adoptions of the children was also discussed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My strong sense after the discussion I had with you and with Ms ______ was that we were all working together for finality for these children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when our Ms ______ attmpted to follow-up and find out exactly what amount would be required so that we could pay for the newspaper advertisements, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;we were told not to interfere with the process and reference was made to our “forcing the issue”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;There are two options for these children: either no-one does anything to finalise their future and they stay right where they are for the remainder of their childhood, alternatively, we work together to give them the stability and security that they deserve. &lt;/span&gt;This may well be with their birth families, but until a proper investigation is done, it is impossible to tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have decades of experience in working with children, heading up teams of social workers, paediatricians and counsellors through courts ranging from the local Children’s Courts to the Supreme Court of Appeal and to the Constitutional Court. We remain committed to ensuring that children’s best interests are served.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have seen &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;children thrive and flourish when placed within the nurture and care of a family environment,&lt;/span&gt; and steadfastly &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;believe that every child deserves a family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;not fair to the two families, who have already spent years &lt;/span&gt;being screened from their side by their country’s authorities and who have been &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;highly recommended&lt;/span&gt; as adoptive parents &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;to continue pouring their hopes and dreams into a lifetime with these children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;even more unfair to the children&lt;/span&gt; themselves, as every week that goes by is time that needs to be made up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;If you have no intention of allowing these two children to find that security within a family and you insist on misconstruing everything that we are trying to do to find out what would be in these children’s best interests,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;please&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;be gracious enough to let me know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point, the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;families will have a decision to make – to either accept that you do not intend assisting these children in finding family care, alternatively, to instruct us to approach the highest authorities in our country to request that an investigation be conducted to find out what would be best for these two little people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My offer to pay directly to the newspaper/s the costs involved in advertising for the families of these two children to come forward remains in place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;this whole saga cannot drag on indefinitely.&lt;/span&gt; You told us to wait until the beginning of May; it is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;now almost the end of May &lt;/span&gt;and we seem to have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;regressed rather than making any progress at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Please would you let us know by close of business on &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;Monday 1 June 2009 &lt;/span&gt;whether or not you would like us to assist with the advertising costs and if so, the names of the newspapers and the costs involved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;My heartfelt prayer is that we, as professionals, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;can work together&lt;/span&gt; to&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;secure futures for these children that are bright with hope and promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours sincerely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div face="Calibri, sans-serif" size="11pt" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;MS __________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div face="Calibri, sans-serif" size="11pt" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   "&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;PRESIDENT &amp;amp; FOUNDER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-3099496859644832678?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3099496859644832678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=3099496859644832678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3099496859644832678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3099496859644832678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/may.html' title='May'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunVf43XuGI/AAAAAAAALUs/poDdRQAvJQM/s72-c/IMG_1050.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-3865755825848964564</id><published>2009-10-29T13:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:21:36.417-06:00</updated><title type='text'>June</title><content type='html'>Well, the deadline of June 1st came and went with no word.  Two days later, I posted the following update on our family blog, with the title, "I feel like I'm going to throw up."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Dear ________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Thank you for obtaining the letters from the families so quickly – I immediately forwarded them onto the email address that we have for the Safety Home, marked for the urgent attention of Ms ______and Ms ______. I also printed out the emails and those were faxed off to them under cover of a separate letter for each family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;I do not think Ms _______ had received those letters when she telephoned our offices an hour ago. She referred to the letter we had sent her insisting on some feedback (otherwise we would presume that they didn’t want us to try and assist these children).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;She was so rampant and mad with me that I can only presume that she had just received that first letter (yes, the very one that we faxed, emailed, and again faxed and emailed yesterday). Her voice was shaking and she was close to tears. She was furious that we were “telling them what to do” and “chasing them up”. She told me that it was up to them as social workers to move the process forward and that they were busy with their “investigations”. She was unable to tell me one single thing that they had done. She was also cross about us offering to assist with the advertising costs – I told her that she herself had told me to speak to _____, that _____ was the one who told me that was the next step from her side but that the financial implications were ________ is a child protection organisation that has its own social worker, as she kept on referring to the “attorneys” in most derogatory terms, telling me that the placement of children was a matter that should only involve social workers and social development, not lawyers, and even when I gently reminded her several times, that the conversations she was referring to were the ones she personally had with me, as President of _______, she didn’t seem to get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;I explained that the reason that I had gone back to her at the beginning of May was because she had told me to (that was a month after we had previously chatted), and that we were now in June a further month down the track and that it was clear that absolutely nothing had happened from their side… I pointed out to her, that in my experience, every day counted and that I woke up each morning with urgency for each child who could potentially be placed with a family. I reminded her that even if the children’s birth families were to come forward and be able to care for them, that we would all rejoice at that, but that in the absence of anyone doing anything to find those parents or to advertise for them, nothing was moving forward at all to secure the futures of these two children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;She told me that I had two options – to “leave the matter” (as in, walk away and leave the children right where they were) or alternatively, not to have any further contact with them and they in their own time would let us know what was happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;I asked if we went with the second option whether she would be prepared to at least let us have interim updates on the situation and what was happening from their side, as obviously there were two families with expectations and also papers that were valid for a limited time period. She thought that was a preposterous idea and told me in no uncertain terms that she would not be prepared to provide us with any updates and that is was out of the question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;Towards the end of the conversation, she accused me of trying to “tell them what to do” and of “undermining the Home by not following due process” simply because they were a Black organisation. I had to take a deep breath as I explained to her that some of my very dearest friends are Black, that my life is devoted to helping Black children find families, that some of my honorary godchildren and families with whom we vacation are Black…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;I did not feel that I had the right to “scupper” these two potential placements, so you will be pleased to know that I bit my tongue, agreed to everything she said, and told her I would advise you as the agency, who would in turn let the families know, and that I looked forward to hearing from her at some stage in the future!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;There may well be further feedback from her once she has read the letters from the families, in which case, I will be sure to let you know straight away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;In the meantime, though, you are welcome to forward all or any part of this email to the families to give them strength for the wait…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;With kind regards,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p   style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-left: 0in;   font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:12pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style=" ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;As you can imagine, this letter came as a shock and I was in tears because of it.  At this point, we weren't sure what to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;Then, on June 8th, we received the following letter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Dear ________ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I drove out to _______ Court early this morning to spend time with the Children’s Court Commissioner there before he went into Court – he was horrified to hear how things have been delayed… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I would like to send an email with the little information that we have on the children to the ______ Children’s Court Commissioner, asking her to please confirm that these children fall under her jurisdiction and further asking her to formally request, with time limits, proper information and a detailed report from the social worker so that we can ascertain whether these two children are adoptable. I will reiterate our offer to assist with the advertising costs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;You need to know that this is a risk. The Commissioner may refuse. Even if she agrees, it will in all likelihood burn bridges once and for all with the Director and social worker at the Home. The report that is provided (if it is standard) will not suffice for Hague purposes and we will need thereafter to get an additional social worker’s report filed to properly meet all requirements. That could also be difficult if the Home and its Director and Social worker refuse to co-operate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Having said all that, I really do not think there is any other option for these families, and for these children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Please would you confirm that I can go ahead and email the Court, with the request that they insist that an investigation is done so that the Children’s Court enquiry can be finalised, even though it is high risk? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I look forward to hearing from you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;With kind regards, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That same day I wrote on my blog, "Our friend (who is adopting a child  from the same orphanage) had the idea to try one more time to reach out to the director of the orphanage before we approach the court. She wrote a very heart felt, humble and sincere letter that will hopefully soften her heart. I won't share the letter that she wrote, for privacy's sake. But the Mr. and I are also hoping and praying that this will work."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-footer" style="margin-top: 0.75em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(128, 0, 64); text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.1em; font: normal normal normal 78%/normal 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4em; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-3865755825848964564?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3865755825848964564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=3865755825848964564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3865755825848964564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3865755825848964564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/june.html' title='June'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-130035917381861803</id><published>2009-10-29T12:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:21:52.944-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Me, the Blubbering Fool</title><content type='html'>Here's what I wrote on my personal blog back in June, in the midst of all of our international adoption struggles (please keep in mind that I share this only in hopes that it may strike a chord with someone else, somewhere out there who has maybe felt the same kinds of emotions):&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;Please forgive me for getting personal for just a moment. I know that NOBODY leads a perfect life and everyone has challenges. (As my quote from Marjorie Hinckley says on my side bar ...) But tonight, I'm just not strong enough. My head is spinning and I think I need to write my thoughts down in order to have some sort of therapeutic relief. I'm having such a hard time looking through blogs of everyone and their cute families and their beautiful babies. Even though I am genuinely happy for the people that I love, and excited for their little miracles, tonight I'm having a hard time reading about all of the announcements of expectant mothers and first teeth and last days of preschool and kindergarten. Of first words and food aversions and even of "horror" stories of staying up all night with a crying or teething child. I feel like the Mr. and I are missing out on the most beautiful and wonderful gifts that life has to offer. And we can't do anything about it. The more we actively try to pursue having a family, the more our dreams seem to be put on hold. Obviously there are reasons. And most days I'm okay with it. In fact, most of the time, I feel pretty happy. But tonight I'm weak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, simply put, I feel like I'm not good enough. Like I'm failing as a person. I feel like my talents just aren't as good as everyone else's. These days, anyone can pick up a camera and do photography. What makes me think I am special? And don't even get me started with music. I know that so many people are hundreds more times talented than me and I've started to resign to the fact that I'm just not special and never really will be. I wish I was eloquent with words and could inspire people with my blog like so many others have done. But I'm not and I can't. And then there's the whole mother thing. As much as we want and beg and plead with the Lord to bring us babies, it's not happening. For years. It's just not happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that people, in response to this post, will write and say things like "It will happen. It will happen for you guys." And "you'll probably end up with a house full of kids, just you wait." And I know that it will happen. Our time to be parents will come. It will. I have hope in that and I don't think I can ever lose hope in that. But just for tonight, I'm feeling so left out of life. I'm having vivid nightmares of those days when I was a kid and was the last to be picked for the kickball team or when playing "Red Rover" no one would ask to send Cristi right over. I feel like life is going on, circling on, around me. And I'm just stuck. Left out of the fun and the joy and laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what the solution is. And I need to come closer to my Heavenly Father. Only He can dry my tears and only He can lift me to greater heights. And really, I guess it doesn't matter if I'm not special in the eyes of the world. Or in the eyes of my friends. Or in the eyes of the blogging community. Or the eyes of mothers in the park. I know that I am special in the eyes of my Father in Heaven. I know that He loves me. And I know that my husband loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not one to ask for people to pray for me. I never have been. But we feel it so important to ask for the prayers and love of our friends and family during this time in the adoption of this little boy from Africa. If you have read my former posts, you will know why. If you would like to join us in prayer, in fasting, we would be so eternally grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the feelings I'm having tonight will pass. In fact, most likely, by tomorrow I'll be back to feeling like myself - happy, blessed and full of gratitude. And ... I should write on my blog MORE during those times. It seems like lately, I'm only posting when things are down. I need to recognize the hand of the Lord in my life more and post our day to day blessings and miracles too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had the quote pop into my head from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland from last General Conference. In talking about the death of his beloved wife, an infant daughter, and a young son, he said, "I've never asked '&lt;span style="font-style: italic; "&gt;why'&lt;/span&gt;, but rather '&lt;span style="font-style: italic; "&gt;what is it that He wants me to learn from this experience?&lt;/span&gt;' I think that's a good way to face the unpleasant things in our life - not complaining, but &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;thanking&lt;/span&gt; the Lord for the trust He places in us when He gives us the opportunity to overcome difficulties."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, "self."  Now I definitely know what I need to work on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for letting me vent and ramble tonight. I feel much better already! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-130035917381861803?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/130035917381861803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=130035917381861803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/130035917381861803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/130035917381861803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/me-blubbering-fool.html' title='Me, the Blubbering Fool'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-3912394566157530297</id><published>2009-10-29T12:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:22:08.634-06:00</updated><title type='text'>June, Continued</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In the middle of June, the Mr. and I made a big decision.  The adoption process in Africa was taking a painfully long amount of time.  It was currently at a stand still and we didn't know how long it would take to eventually go through ... IF if went through at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One day, we started thinking about the prospect of adopting an infant, here from the United&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; States, while we waited for the international adoption to go through.  The more we thought about it, prayed about it, the more excited we got!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We immediately found a local agency through a referral and started our paperwork with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Suna9xJYDTI/AAAAAAAALU0/rg-oF6KW0Y0/s400/IMG_9842.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398086383079787826" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's amazing how different, how beautiful the world started looking to us again - full of hope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-3912394566157530297?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3912394566157530297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=3912394566157530297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3912394566157530297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3912394566157530297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/june-continued-june-continued.html' title='June, Continued'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Suna9xJYDTI/AAAAAAAALU0/rg-oF6KW0Y0/s72-c/IMG_9842.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-3683834315664279341</id><published>2009-10-29T12:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:22:20.688-06:00</updated><title type='text'>July</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Gallbladders are overrated!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That was my post headline at the end of June, after having spent over 5 hours in the ER, finding out I was having a gallbladder attack.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunblOj888I/AAAAAAAALU8/HXlCDI9Q62I/s400/19260.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398087060990784450" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So, at the very beginning of July, I went in for immediate emergency surgery to have my gallbladder removed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The surgery went well.  Obviously it went well enough for me to be up and going to Lake Powell just about a week and a half later with the family!  Although, I took the time to mostly just heal.  And I didn't even get in the water (couldn't soak my incisions yet), which was a great feat for me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SuncfmDxxPI/AAAAAAAALVE/EBRtHo0mdLM/s400/IMG_1533.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398088063730697458" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I actually did recover quite well and pretty quickly from the surgery.  And in no time, was back to doing fun, summer activities that took up the rest of July.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-3683834315664279341?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3683834315664279341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=3683834315664279341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3683834315664279341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3683834315664279341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/july.html' title='July'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunblOj888I/AAAAAAAALU8/HXlCDI9Q62I/s72-c/19260.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-9108828202992420590</id><published>2009-10-29T12:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:22:34.942-06:00</updated><title type='text'>August</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;July ended and August started off with a bang by the Mr. and I celebrating our FIFTH wedding anniversary by taking two more of our "game show win" trips - to Beverly Hills and the Hamptons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;On the night of our anniversary, we went down to the Santa Monica Pier and rode the ferris wheel at sunset - twice. Very romantic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sunmj0l1wII/AAAAAAAALVM/eWofRHt45mU/s400/IMG_1959a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398099131467415682" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The next day, we flew out to the Hamptons and enjoyed a relaxing seven day stay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunmkARcDKI/AAAAAAAALVU/H31EhA4_QQI/s1600-h/IMG_2237.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunmkARcDKI/AAAAAAAALVU/H31EhA4_QQI/s1600-h/IMG_2237.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SunmkARcDKI/AAAAAAAALVU/H31EhA4_QQI/s400/IMG_2237.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398099134603070626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/5374330586101505250-9108828202992420590?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/9108828202992420590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=9108828202992420590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/9108828202992420590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/9108828202992420590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/august.html' title='August'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sunmj0l1wII/AAAAAAAALVM/eWofRHt45mU/s72-c/IMG_1959a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-7380841448916253356</id><published>2009-10-29T12:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:23:00.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Diagnosed</title><content type='html'>On Wednesday, August 19, I wrote the following entry on our personal blog:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;Today, I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. The diagnosis was based on years of symptoms, but mostly on the "points test." If 11 out of the 18 points that they test are tender or painful, they give you a positive diagnosis. 13 out of the 18 points tested positive for me.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's interesting that I wasn't upset at all. My initial response was, "Well, just chalk this up to one more experience that I'm meant to have in this life!" And the scripture kept running through my mind,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   font-family:Times, fantasy;font-size:medium;"&gt;know thou, my [daughter], that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:Times, -webkit-fantasy;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:Times, -webkit-fantasy;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);   font-family:Georgia, fantasy;font-size:16px;"&gt;At this point in time, I'm seriously just so grateful to be alive and to have a body! I wouldn't trade this earthly experience for anything! That's right - the infertility and miscarriages, the arthritis, Lyme Disease, Fibromyalgia, and whatever else will be thrown my way. I wouldn't trade it for the chance to come to earth and receive a body. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for entrusting me with this tabernacle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-7380841448916253356?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7380841448916253356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=7380841448916253356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/7380841448916253356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/7380841448916253356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/diagnosed.html' title='Diagnosed'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-276229881062731140</id><published>2009-10-29T12:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:23:11.829-06:00</updated><title type='text'>August, Continued</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And ... the BIG NEWS starts!!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I mentioned, two months earlier, in June, we started the paperwork with a local adoption agency to adopt an infant from the USA.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On August 24th, we got the news! Here's what I wrote on our blog:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;Are you sitting down?? Are you ready for some BIG news? Sorry that we're not CALLING everyone to tell them personally, but our list is TOO large and we are too EXCITED to not share!&lt;div&gt;We have been "chosen" by a birth mother to adopt her baby!!! She is due October 1st! So ... in 5 weeks or so we are going to be PARENTS!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will give more details soon! I'm actually off to bed SOON. I just wanted to get this information out there!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WOO HOO!!! We could NOT be more THRILLED!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were told that the birth mother had never had an ultrasound, and so we didn't know the sex of the baby.  But the very next day ... this ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" size="13px" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;div id="id_4a942c5ea490b2962162065" class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="display: inline; "&gt;NEWS flash/update!! We just got a call from the adoption agency - the birth mother had an ultra sound today and ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" size="13px" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" size="13px" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px;  font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;div id="id_4a942c5ea490b2962162065" class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="display: inline; "&gt;it's a ..........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" size="13px" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px;  font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message"  style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:15px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message"  style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px;  font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:15px;"&gt;&lt;div id="id_4a942c5ea490b2962162065" class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); "&gt;BOY!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WOO HOO!!!! We're SO excited!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;So if you have any boy name ideas, we'd love for you to share! We had our girl name pretty set in stone, so of COURSE it's a boy, right? :)&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;Oh! AND the due date has been moved to October 22nd - he could be&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt; born on my birthday!! This will be the BEST birthday EVER!! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The next day, I showed off our very first purchase for the world to see ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sunn3Xa7pCI/AAAAAAAALVc/aPt-LKHZd-k/s400/IMG_4861.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398100566746047522" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;..you could say we were excited :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-footer" style="margin-top: 0.75em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(128, 0, 64); text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.1em; font: normal normal normal 78%/normal 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4em; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-276229881062731140?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/276229881062731140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=276229881062731140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/276229881062731140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/276229881062731140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/august-continued.html' title='August, Continued'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sunn3Xa7pCI/AAAAAAAALVc/aPt-LKHZd-k/s72-c/IMG_4861.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-940622600482788194</id><published>2009-10-29T12:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T13:23:28.248-06:00</updated><title type='text'>September</title><content type='html'>The first part of September was THRILLING!!  It was spent making plans that had been FIVE YEARS in the works!  Okay, truth be told, I'd been waiting my entire life to be a mommy - so more like THIRTY years in the making! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Baby showers to plan, cribs and nursery items to purchase, little onesies to buy, names to consider.  It was a whirlwind of excitement and emotions!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, on Wednesday, September 23rd, our rollercoaster ride of emotions began.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's what I wrote on our blog:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We just got a call from our adoption agency. Our birth mother has changed her mind. So it looks like no little baby boy bastian next month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please keep us in your prayers. I'm having a pretty rough time right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That day and night were very rough for us.  We went through all of the emotions you can imagine - shock, anger, hurt, frustration, sadness and then, finally acceptance and sorrow.  However, we also, even though we couldn't explain it, felt an immense amount of peace that night, in the midst of it all.  We felt like it would be "soon" and we would have our baby.  That didn't make the mourning any easier, though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That night, before I went to bed, I opened up a book and my eyes fell directly to these words:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"  style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px;  font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4em; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:13px;"&gt;"The storm fronts that come into our lives will not last forever. We can surmount the drifts of difficulties and we can hold out if we maintain our perspective and faith ... Just as we know there is a sun just beyond today's cloud cover, s&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;o we must not doubt the continued, watchful, and tutoring presence of The Son in spite of the stormy seasons in our lives." ~Neal A. Maxwell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next morning, I awoke rejuvenated and the thought, or rather, the scripture, came into my mind, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." ~Psalm 30:5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just then, we got a phone call.  A call that would be life-altering.  It was from our adoption agency.  They had a baby for us!  That day!  Already born (two days earlier) in state, and the birth mother was going to sign the paperwork and make it legal TODAY!  Were we interested??!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's your answer ... written on our blog just a few hours later ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);   font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, what can I say? Miracles never cease! And God works in mysterious ways ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At about 10:30 this morning, we got a phone call from our adoption agency saying that they had a baby boy that was born on Tuesday and the birth mother wanted to sign away her rights today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We quickly went to our agency, signed some paperwork and then went to the hospital to meet the birth mother. She is a darling girl and we fell in love with her and her brave decision. She signed away her rights to us as this baby's parents at about 1:00 pm. We then drove to another hospital, where the baby is in the NICU and held our little baby boy for the first time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We are in absolute LOVE with him!!! He was born three weeks premature and so he has a few little problems breathing on his own. And he also has an infection. So he's in the NICU right now. It's so sad to see him all hooked up to the wires and cords. But he is a GORGEOUS little guy! Just six pounds, 4 oz!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right now we couldn't be more shocked, excited, happy, grateful, grateful, grateful or GRATEFUL!!! Thanks for all the prayers, love and support!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything is a whirlwind right now - crazy emotions and we're really busy trying to notify people. So please don't mind me if I don't post for a couple of days. We'll be in the NICU for awhile too :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That pretty much gets you caught up to date. Almost.  And I'll try and keep this thing updated more often.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't believe the turn of events our lives have taken in the past year.  I need to keep a "gratitude journal" and perhaps this blog can serve as that purpose.  We shall see.  All I know is that I definitely have enough "material" to fill 10 gratitude journals right now! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-940622600482788194?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/940622600482788194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=940622600482788194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/940622600482788194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/940622600482788194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/september.html' title='September'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-1981053425372868561</id><published>2009-04-25T13:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T13:28:53.168-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An equation for your mathematical enjoyment ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This weather&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;br /&gt;My body&lt;br /&gt;=&lt;br /&gt;Bad combination&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-1981053425372868561?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1981053425372868561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=1981053425372868561' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1981053425372868561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1981053425372868561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/equation-for-your-mathematical.html' title='An equation for your mathematical enjoyment ...'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-4548727578823893112</id><published>2009-04-17T20:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T20:55:43.470-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback Friday</title><content type='html'>My dad died of cancer when I was 12.  I recently found these pictures in an old baby book of mine and decided to scan them.  They melt my heart and make me so happy. My dad was always playing go fish or some other card game with me. I love and treasure these memories with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmastime 1981, age 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sek_ZKRiJWI/AAAAAAAAIf0/ifxpKb5xuNg/s1600-h/sc04a0cf7303.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sek_ZKRiJWI/AAAAAAAAIf0/ifxpKb5xuNg/s400/sc04a0cf7303.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325857735829497186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sek_Za4jQLI/AAAAAAAAIf8/DmtOoDWHEcs/s1600-h/sc04a1400d01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 329px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sek_Za4jQLI/AAAAAAAAIf8/DmtOoDWHEcs/s400/sc04a1400d01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325857740288114866" 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/5374330586101505250-4548727578823893112?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4548727578823893112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=4548727578823893112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4548727578823893112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4548727578823893112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/flashback-friday.html' title='Flashback Friday'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/Sek_ZKRiJWI/AAAAAAAAIf0/ifxpKb5xuNg/s72-c/sc04a0cf7303.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-3401414486632144100</id><published>2009-04-16T11:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T20:54:26.047-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you for real?</title><content type='html'>Oh, the weather!  Really?!  This is what we looked out on late last night!  In APRIL!  And yes, as you probably can imagine, it's taking it's toll on my body.  I can feel it in "my bones!"  I am SO ready for spring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A view of the front of our house ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SelAW8_fkiI/AAAAAAAAIgE/8slW7fSfm2Q/s1600-h/IMG_6437.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SelAW8_fkiI/AAAAAAAAIgE/8slW7fSfm2Q/s400/IMG_6437.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325858797416059426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And looking into the back yard ...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SelAXJyoivI/AAAAAAAAIgM/vAf2Z_Z_Rik/s1600-h/IMG_6450.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SelAXJyoivI/AAAAAAAAIgM/vAf2Z_Z_Rik/s400/IMG_6450.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325858800851782386" 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/5374330586101505250-3401414486632144100?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3401414486632144100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=3401414486632144100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3401414486632144100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3401414486632144100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/are-you-for-real.html' title='Are you for real?'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SelAW8_fkiI/AAAAAAAAIgE/8slW7fSfm2Q/s72-c/IMG_6437.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-6268040596486930649</id><published>2009-04-09T01:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T01:59:45.937-06:00</updated><title type='text'>things you wish you could tell people about infertility</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Tonight I came across this on the blog of another couple that is trying to adopt. I thought it was really interesting. And although she comes across as a little abrupt for my personal taste, a lot of things I do agree with and can truly relate to. Especially the part about still struggling with the pain associated with infertility as we wait to adopt. That doesn't really go away. So I thought I'd share this woman's post. I'm going to change the names for anonymity's sake...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She writes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;"Dealing with infertility has most definitely been the hardest thing for John and I to endure. As we wait to adopt, we still struggle with the pain associated with infertility and that may never go away. I write this to simply share my thoughts and experiences, not to offend anybody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div face="courier new"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;My sister Julie sent me this list called "Things We Wish We Could Tell People About Infertility," along with this amazing music video called "I would die for that." She is pregnant right now, and she has voiced to me how grateful she is to be blessed with children. She has been humbled by my struggle with infertility and has told me how my experience has affected her pregnancy. Her sharing those feelings with me has touched me in such a way she will never realize. We are in the same stage of life but on different ends of the spectrum. She is pregnant with her 3rd and it has always been easy for her to get pregnant. I have struggled for 7 long years with nothing to show for it. Although she doesn't know what it's like to suffer from infertility, she, along with the rest of my family has helped John and I carry this burden.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;There have been many people along the way who have said things to us that was probably never meant to hurt our feelings, but in a way did. I took it in stride but I always wished there was a way to let them know how I truly felt, but never knew what to say. Here are a few examples and what I wished I could say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt;1. Pregnant people have told me "You're so lucky you don't have to go through this."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Response:&lt;/span&gt; I would go through morning sickness, swollen hands, feet and legs, constant backaches and whatever else it takes. I would do anything to be in your shoes and to become pregnant. Don't complain to me about the blessing you have been given. You are the lucky one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt;2. People have asked me this question when their kids are misbehaving. "Are you sure you want kids? They can be such a pain sometimes"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My response:&lt;/span&gt; If I didn't want kids I wouldn't have gone through all the expensive medical treatments, Dr.'s visits, and procedures to find out that they didn't work. I wouldn't have spent 6 months filling out piles of paperwork, jumping through so many hoops, and feeling like I have to be perfect just to qualify for adoption, then be willing to wait for who knows how long to be picked by a birth mother who deems me good enough to raise her child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. "You'll get pregnant after you adopt"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My response:&lt;/span&gt; Although there are so many instances where that has happened, you can't assume it will happen to me. Adoption is not a cure for infertility. I have accepted my infertility and am confident that adoption is the path best for us. I will love that child more than anything, but at the same time I can still long to have experienced life inside me. That will never change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. "Once you stop trying it will happen. You just need to relax."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My response:&lt;/span&gt; If I can't get pregnant with fertility pills and other medical procedures, what makes you think that "not trying" or "relaxing" will do any better. Infertility is a medical condition that many people suffer with. Relaxing won't help infertility just as it won't help cure cancer or any other disease."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that some of these things have crossed my mind on more than one occasion.  I'm far from perfect. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also know that 9 times out of 10 (maybe 9 1/2, even), people are just trying to help and be reassuring and calming. So I most often just brush it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, after all these years. After everything we've been through. I would LOVE to experience the joy of carrying a life inside of ME. Even though we are adopting. That pain and longing for our own pregnancy may never go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, sometimes, I don't want people to say, "Keep the faith." Or, "Chin up!" Because I already know to do those things. And 99% of the time, I think I do a pretty good job of it. But ... every once in awhile ... in those fleeting glimpses of times ... I just need someone to wrap their arms around me (even their virtual "arms" through a response in the computer) and say, "I'm so sorry." Just that. Those simple words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I'm feeling sorry for myself. But I am feeling sorrow. And it will pass. Give me a moment. Or two. And it will pass. But in the meantime, could you please just put your virtual arms around me and tell me that you love me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-6268040596486930649?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6268040596486930649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=6268040596486930649' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6268040596486930649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6268040596486930649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/things-you-wish-you-could-tell-people.html' title='things you wish you could tell people about infertility'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-7139363748990802807</id><published>2009-03-23T22:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T22:30:05.534-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Stand Corrected</title><content type='html'>Thanks be to my sister who is a generation older than me (Sorry, J - but it really does add to the story to say that) for correcting me.  It's actually HANGING around ... nothing to do but frown ... yaddi yaddi yaddah.  BUT ... I guess "laying around" fit my situation better today, so I changed the words accordingly (yeah, we'll just go with that so it doesn't sound like I didn't really know the right words ...)&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/5374330586101505250-7139363748990802807?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/7139363748990802807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=7139363748990802807' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/7139363748990802807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/7139363748990802807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-stand-corrected.html' title='I Stand Corrected'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-6347904902209667492</id><published>2009-03-23T16:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T17:00:18.739-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Days and Mondays</title><content type='html'>Conversation last night went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Do you think Karen Carpenter had arthritis?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Mr&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Umm ... no, she had an eating disorder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know.  It's just that she sang about how rainy days (and Mondays) always got her down.&lt;/span&gt;  I guess she wasn't being literal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rainy days.  Sigh.  This weather.  Not good for my "bones."  And just my body in general.  I have a feeling it's going to be one of "those weeks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night the Mr. and I were talking about our future and where we'll end up.  We would really love to stay in our beautiful state - with the mountains and our friends and family.  But we may end up moving somewhere warm and where the weather is more stable just because it would help my health so much.  Do you think that's why so many old people live in Arizona??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'll leave you with these parting words ... "Laying around. Nothing to do but frown. Rainy days and Mondays always get me doooowwwwnnnn."  (Oh, and for the record, I'm not frowning.  But I am laying around since it's a rainy Monday.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-6347904902209667492?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6347904902209667492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=6347904902209667492' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6347904902209667492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6347904902209667492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/rainy-days-and-mondays.html' title='Rainy Days and Mondays'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-6470742525349317464</id><published>2009-03-19T00:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T02:26:04.535-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is Why ...</title><content type='html'>...I sometimes wonder why I don't live in Arizona - or someplace else where the weather is more stable.  It's drops in the barometric pressure like the one we're expected to have within the week that make life frustratingly ... frustrating! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/ScIAw420YQI/AAAAAAAAIJY/0B6XJWUC4F4/s1600-h/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/ScIAw420YQI/AAAAAAAAIJY/0B6XJWUC4F4/s400/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314811350146638082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's interesting that I can start to feel the change coming in my body three or four days before the storm actually hits.  The barometer must be dropping, and dropping fast.  A 30 degree temperature change within TWO DAYS?  Oi!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like it's time to give myself another shot of Enbrel in preparation for the storm (storm in more ways than one).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-6470742525349317464?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6470742525349317464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=6470742525349317464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6470742525349317464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/6470742525349317464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-why.html' title='This is Why ...'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/ScIAw420YQI/AAAAAAAAIJY/0B6XJWUC4F4/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-8114193873675929845</id><published>2009-03-13T01:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T01:52:57.327-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Times</title><content type='html'>That's how many times the Mr. has called me from Wally's tonight, asking this or that.  (I sent him armed with the power of a grocery list ... that obviously wasn't specific enough ... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st call:&lt;br /&gt;What kind of cheese do I get?  How big should the block be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2nd call:&lt;br /&gt;What kind of beef is good for stir fry?  Does it have to be cut up already?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd call:&lt;br /&gt;They're out of pink trident.  Do you want me to get you the watermelon kind? (He knows this is particularly important since I can't eat sugar.  And trident is my only form of "treat" or "candy."  Even though - as a side note - I don't condone chewing gum in public.  And definitely never with your mouth open)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4th call (and this one came as I was writing this post.  So I had to change the title from "3 times" to "4 times"):&lt;br /&gt;Do you care what kind of laundry detergent I get?  I think I'll get the high efficiency kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My response "That's good babe.  Okay, thank you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How in the world would I ever get through any sort of chronic illness without him?  How did I last for almost 26 years before we got married?  And seven of those with RA?  I don't know.  But at least I'll never have to know again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-8114193873675929845?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8114193873675929845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=8114193873675929845' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8114193873675929845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8114193873675929845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/four-times.html' title='Four Times'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-8511477548187836064</id><published>2009-03-13T01:37:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T01:40:08.114-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What am I doing</title><content type='html'>awake at 1:00 am, you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, that's right.  Just wasting time online while I should be sleeping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ... dang insomnia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I'm up because the Mr. (sweet as can be) just ran out to Wal-Mart (I'm very ANTI Wal-Mart, but it's the only place in the valley that is open 24/7) to get me some laundry soap.  Yep, that's right.  At 1:00am. In the morning.  Am.  Morning.  1:00.  He's a gem!  I think I'll keep him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just for the record, he even said he'll DO the laundry tonight so that I can sleep if need be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, ladies.  Time to put your anti- jealously glasses on!  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A keeper, I said.  A keeper!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-8511477548187836064?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8511477548187836064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=8511477548187836064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8511477548187836064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8511477548187836064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-am-i-doing.html' title='What am I doing'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-532207837103009593</id><published>2009-03-13T01:26:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T01:26:19.946-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Just Discovered ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;...a Writer's Workshop! I'm excited to start participating in this.  What a good excuse for me to get my brain going!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So ... over at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mama's Losin It &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;she holds a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/2009/03/writers-workshop-once-upon-time-i-was.html"&gt;Writer's Workshop&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;. She gives you prompts and you choose which one (or more than one) that inspires you most. My choice for this weeks Writer's Workshop is:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;5.) What happened in the last year? Write about something you can do now that you couldn't do a year ago. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ummmm, welllll, let me think about this one.  Tough call.  Since I still can't fly.  I still only have two hands.  And I still am not pregnant.  Let's see, what CAN I do differently now that I couldn't do a year ago?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know! I know!  Pick me!  Patience!!  Waiting for our adopted child to get here from Africa has definitely taught me patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ... hmmm ... nevermind.  That's no good.  I'm still not a patient enough person.  And, in my mind things still aren't moving quickly enough for us to bring Charlie into our family.   So, yeah, patience is still probably not something that I can write about yet.  (And, sigh, who knows if I'll ever be able to conquer that one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, moving on.  What else?  Let me tap my brain.  Tap, tap, tap.  I give up.  I can't think of anything meaningful or life changing that I've started doing in the past year.  BUT ... I have started a couple of new blogs to let my creative juices run wild. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.creativejuicephotography.blogspot.com/"&gt;Creative Juice Photography&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cristiscreations.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cristi's Creations&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one to use as an outlet for the ramblings of a young woman with chronic pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alivinghouse.blogspot.com/"&gt;A Living House&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's sorta(semi) monumental.  I can now use actions in Photoshop that I didn't know how to use a year ago.  And I can make blog backgrounds that I didn't know how to do even four months ago.  And I can hopefully help others feel not alone in times of chronic pain or other trials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ... I guess, truth be told, I'm doing okay.  I'm still not a super woman.  I don't have magical powers.  But I am me.  And I am a better me than I was 12 months ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Kat, for the challenge.  And may you continue to bring it on with the writers workshops!  My brain needs this!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-532207837103009593?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/532207837103009593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=532207837103009593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/532207837103009593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/532207837103009593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-just-discovered.html' title='I Just Discovered ...'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-5210463729769925637</id><published>2009-03-12T06:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T06:35:20.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed Day!</title><content type='html'>I was able to get my right meds yesterday - the insurance covered it (miracle!) and gave myself a SHOT last night!  YAY!!!  Finally!  Hopefully I will be feeling so much better!  Life is good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-5210463729769925637?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5210463729769925637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=5210463729769925637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5210463729769925637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/5210463729769925637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/blessed-day.html' title='Blessed Day!'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-8173272708143059260</id><published>2009-03-10T16:50:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T16:50:44.557-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Miracle</title><content type='html'>So after numerous calls to my doctor's office, to the manufacturers of Enbrel, and to the pharmacy, we finally got everything straightened out and I will be getting the RIGHT meds tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thankful to have Jeff, my good husband, because I haven't been feeling up to...well ... anything. It's hard to have a flare up and not have any idea when my meds will be coming to give me relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor's office was shocked that the pharmacy messed up and ordered the wrong form of shots in the first place. The pharmacy claimed no wrong doing (truth be told, it was their fault), but in the end, after the doctor's office called them, they decided to go ahead and give us the right stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the miracle of it all is that the insurance is going to cover it!!  Miracle of miracles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ... hopefully by tomorrow night I'll be feeling a little reprieve from all this. AND, on top of that, the weather is supposed to stabilize a little bit. Yay for being able to move! And therefore being able to live life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, while I'm on the topic of "yays" and "blessings" and "miracles," I really am so thankful for modern medicine too. RA is something that has the potential to be irreversably damaging. But because we caught it when I was young, and because of the advancements in medicine that happened to be coming around right about the same time I was diagnosed, we were able to stop the permanent damage to my joints. And for the most part, the flare ups are usually in remission. This doesn't mean I don't suffer consequences from having an autoimmune disease. Because I do. On a daily basis. But the unbearable pain - the kind that doesn't let me walk or move or anything - is managable. I remember getting a Priesthood blessing when I was first diagnosed that said that the Lord has given us doctors and science and the advancements of modern medicine to bless and benefit our lives. And I have definitely witnessed this first hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really thankful for the love and support of friends and family. Jeff, my mom, dear friends. Seriously, through everything, I've realized that our relationships with people are what really matter in this life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm rambling now. But I just wanted to journal my thoughts on how THANKFUL I am that everything will be working out for me to get the RIGHT shots tomorrow! What a HUGE blessing! I'm so thankful for little miracles in my life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-8173272708143059260?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8173272708143059260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=8173272708143059260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8173272708143059260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8173272708143059260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-miracle.html' title='Little Miracle'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-1900945187512444500</id><published>2009-03-08T18:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T18:22:37.710-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Loser!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The following is excerpted from the blog, &lt;a href="http://singlegalsguidetora.typepad.com/"&gt;The Single Gal's Guide to Rheumatoid Arthritis, by Sara Nash&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's face it; rheumatoid arthritis is kind of a loser disease.  I mean, if you have to get saddled with a disease, getting a popular one would make some things about the whole ordeal a little easier to take.  For starters, when you told people what you have, they wouldn't:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. stare at you with a blank, slightly puzzled expression while trying to emit sympathy even though they have no idea what you just said or what that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B. easily dismiss it because they have it, too, in their knee, their ankle, their shoulder....ahem or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. tell you that now is the time to have RA thanks to the superdrugs out there, and besides, it's not like it kills you. (Never mind the fact that it painfully eats your joints, makes you feel like Death's best friend, and let's not forget the complications and sicknesses that come with the meds we have to take)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have RA, chances are you know what I'm talking about.  Just once, I'd love to get an email or a Facebook invite from a friend asking me to a benefit for the disease I've actually got.  Wouldn't it be lovely to be able to take yoga or pilates classes especially designed for people with RA? How comforting must it be to go to the bookstore after being diagnosed and see rows and rows of books about your disease, telling you what to eat for it, how to exercise for it, treat it and survive it. How to laugh about it, talk about it with your partner, your kids, your doctor, your boss, neighbor and that random person you bump into on the street.  When I got diagnosed with&lt;br /&gt;RA, I was so dismayed, not only to find out that I had a disease (obviously), but also to find out that I'd gotten stuck with one that nobody seemed to know or care about.  Restless leg syndrome had more books sitting on the shelf of my local bookstore than did rheumatoid arthritis. Nothing against restless leg syndrome, but seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... So not only do you get RA, but you get a kind of weird inferiority complex, like "My disease isn't as good as yours since it doesn't have any bling, good merchandise or Lifetime movies about it."  We don't even have a celebrity as a spokesperson. Kathleen Turner finally revealed that she has RA in her recent biography, but sadly, it didn't make a big splash, and even if it had, next to all that juicy backstage gossip, her struggle with RA took a backseat in the telling of her story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Why do some diseases seem to capture national empathy while others are relegated to the back of the bus?  It's not just about the mortality rate, because heart disease is the number one killer of women, but breast cancer is much more identifiable, better-funded and it gets all the attention. Shelley Lewis, author of the sharply funny Five Lessons I didn't Learn from Breast Cancer (and One Big One I Did), writes about this phenomenon in her book, and it got me&lt;br /&gt;thinking. Why is RA at such a disadvantage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one thing, the fact that it won't kill you makes it harder to dramatize. Knowing it's not fatal is good if you have the disease, but compared to personal stories of struggle and triumph with illnesses like cancer or Parkinson's, rheumatoid arthritis is just not tragic enough to pull on the heartstrings of the public. And, since it is a chronic disease, there is no shout-from-the-rooftops, "I SURVIVED IT" moment.  There are only smaller, harder-to-portray moments of glee and glory, such as "HOORAY! My drugs are working! I don't feel like utter crap today!" But RA isn't ever really over, it's just dormant at times  -- if you get lucky, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think there are any colors for an awareness ribbon left, though I suppose we could move on to patterns. Maybe RA could be polka dots or a perky Scottish Tartan? The idea of having a big walk for RA strikes me as being a little flawed (Arthritis Foundation does have one) given that many people with RA either can't walk, can't walk without assistance, or can't walk for long periods of time without suffering some real, no-holds-barred pain.  I know I can't. I could get through it, but the thought of walking 5K, even for a cause so directly related to my well-being, doesn't exactly inspire me to go and sign up for one if I'm being really honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, where does this leave all of us?  I'm not sure I have the solution.....yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excerpted from the blog, &lt;a href="http://singlegalsguidetora.typepad.com/"&gt;The Single Gal's Guide to Rheumatoid&lt;br /&gt;Arthritis, by Sara Nash&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-1900945187512444500?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1900945187512444500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=1900945187512444500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1900945187512444500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1900945187512444500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-loser.html' title='What a Loser!'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-2679446612699467061</id><published>2009-03-08T17:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T16:51:49.218-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Can't</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like I'm not very good at saying "I can't." There are a number of different reasons why I don't like uttering those words. I don't like people to know how much I really am hurting. I don't want to make myself so vulnerable. Because most times people don't know how to be empathetic. Or even sympathetic for that matter. I don't like people looking at me and thinking that I'm weak. And most of all, I don't want to be a complainer. I don't like to be looked at as anything other than positive and happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this weekend, I've said, "I can't" quite a lot. Even if just to myself. I've had a tough time. And I think I'll continue to have a rough time until I get my new shots and/or the weather stabilizes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do a really good job of hiding my illnesses. Of pretending like I feel good most of the time. When, truth be told, there hasn't been a day in my life when I've felt 100% - or even 90% - for 10 or 11 years. But people look at me, and because my diseases are "silent illnesses," they see a young, vibrant woman, who seems to have it all together. But I'm here to tell you that most times, I feel like everything is falling apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know these feelings are temporary. They're fleeting thoughts that come when I have a flare-up of my RA. When it gets really bad like this, and I can barely move - or sit for that matter - feelings that I've supressed for months, and even years, come bubbling up to the surface with full force. And they most often times come spilling out as tears. Lots of tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really happy to have started this new blog.  This is designed to help me get my thoughts about being sick down on paper. And to try and find other people out there in the blogosphere whom I can connect with - fellow sufferers of chronic illnesses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, these are my thoughts. And this weekend has been a weekend of feeling like "I can't" and admitting that. However, it's also in these times of "I can't," that I realize that my Savior can. I feel like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; can't handle the pain.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; can swallow it up and wrap His arms around me.  I feel like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; can't hold my life together.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; can.  I feel like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; can't help but let people around me down.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; can lift them up.  I feel like&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I&lt;/span&gt; can't get the support I need.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; can give me support, love and comfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thankful for my Savior. For the atonement. And I'm thankful for Jeff. Without these two people, I don't know how I could ever manage in this life. I DO have a support system - an unconditional, loving network of people around me. I guess I just need to let these people in. Let them help me. And let them do the work. When I can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-2679446612699467061?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2679446612699467061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=2679446612699467061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/2679446612699467061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/2679446612699467061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-cant.html' title='I Can&apos;t'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-8159791975221977906</id><published>2009-03-08T17:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T17:05:09.178-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Supporting a Loved One With a Chronic Illness</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--  #########################  --&gt; &lt;!--      OMNITURE INTEGRATION    --&gt; &lt;!--  #########################  --&gt;  &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript"&gt; &lt;!--   // Defined in 'settings.php'   // See top of this program.  $omniture_acct = OMNITURE_ACCT;   var s_account="lifetimeprod,lifetimeglobal"; //(account is populated from server settings) //--&gt;&lt;/script&gt;  &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript" src="http://www.mylifetime.com/themes/ltv_v1/js/omniture.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;   &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--  s.pageName="ltv:lifestyle:health:supporting-loved-one-chronic-illness";  s.server=""; s.channel="lifestyle";  s.prop1="";  s.prop2="";  s.prop3="Supporting a Loved One With a Chronic Illness";  s.pageType="";  if (s.prop3 == "Page not found") s.pageType="errorPage";    s.prop4="328581";  s.prop5="article";  s.prop24="";  s.prop25="";  s.campaign="";  s.events="event6"; s.prop14=""; s.prop15="";  s.prop16="";  s.prop17="0";  s.prop18="0";  s.prop19="0";  s.prop20="0";  s.prop21="0";  s.prop22="0";  s.prop23="0";  s.visitorID="";  s.zip=""; s.state=""; s.eVar25="";  s.prop6="lifestyle";  s.prop7="health";  s.prop8="";  s.prop9="";  s.hier1="lifestyle,health";  var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//--&gt;&lt;/script&gt; &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!-- if(navigator.appVersion.indexOf('MSIE')&gt;=0)document.write(unescape('%3C')+'\!-'+'-') //--&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;!--/DO NOT REMOVE/--&gt;  &lt;!-- End SiteCatalyst code version: H.15.1. --&gt;  &lt;!--  ##############################  --&gt; &lt;!--      END OMNITURE INTEGRATION    --&gt; &lt;!--  ##############################  --&gt;   &lt;!--//SWITCH TO NEW GA TRACKING CODE - 5/12/08 &lt;script language="javascript1.2" type="text/javascript" src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript" language="javascript1.2"&gt; _uacct = ""; //lifetime urchinTracker(); &lt;/script&gt; --&gt;  &lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt; var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www."); document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E")); &lt;/script&gt;&lt;script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/ga.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt; var firstTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-777181-1"); firstTracker._initData(); firstTracker._trackPageview();  var secondTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-777181-7"); secondTracker._initData(); secondTracker._trackPageview(); &lt;/script&gt; &lt;!-- Start Quantcast tag --&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt; _qoptions={ qacct:"p-fdoi6RH1gCcMo" }; &lt;/script&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://edge.quantserve.com/quant.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;                                                                 &lt;h1 class="title"&gt;Supporting a Loved One With a Chronic Illness&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;span&gt;by Diane F. Haddad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;Content provided by &lt;a href="http://www.revolutionhealth.com/?affiliate_code=lftm&amp;amp;msc=A63189" target="_blank"&gt;Revolution Health Group&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have a friend or family member with a chronic illness, you know how helpless watching a loved one's suffering can make a person feel. But don't let that stop you from reaching out. Studies show that having a strong social support network can improve one's health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A study published in the March 1, 2006, Journal of Clinical Oncology, for example, showed that women with breast cancer who reported having close family and friends were more likely to survive the disease than those who didn't have strong social support networks.&lt;sup&gt;1&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;About chronic illnesses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; One-third of all Americans live with a chronic illness, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. &lt;a href="http://www.revolutionhealth.com/conditions/arthritis/?affiliate_code=lftm&amp;amp;msc=A63189" target="_blank"&gt;Arthritis&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.revolutionhealth.com/conditions/bones-joints-muscles/back-pain/?affiliate_code=lftm&amp;amp;msc=A63189" target="_blank"&gt;back problems&lt;/a&gt;, cardiovascular and lung diseases, &lt;a href="http://www.revolutionhealth.com/conditions/cancer/?affiliate_code=lftm&amp;amp;msc=A63189" target="_blank"&gt;cancer&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.revolutionhealth.com/conditions/diabetes/?affiliate_code=lftm&amp;amp;msc=A63189" target="_blank"&gt;diabetes&lt;/a&gt; are the most prevalent chronic diseases. Some disease sufferers live near-normal lives with treatment. But certain conditions, such as rheumatoid arthritis, are debilitating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isolation and loss of independence compound the physical symptoms. In fact, people with chronic illnesses have up to a 33 percent chance of becoming depressed, according to the Cleveland Clinic. Your loved one may be unable to work, clean the house or even use the bathroom alone. He might be reluctant to go out and risk strangers' stares. Finances may be strained, and friendships may fade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was difficult for friends to sympathize with my medical problems and the impact on my ability to socialize," says Nancy Jay, 34, a Chandler, Arizona, resident who has &lt;a href="http://www.revolutionhealth.com/conditions/bones-joints-muscles/fibromyalgia/?affiliate_code=lftm&amp;amp;msc=A63189" target="_blank"&gt;fibromyalgia&lt;/a&gt;, which is known as an "invisible" disease because sufferers appear healthy. "Most of my friends are working, going to school and raising families. Simply getting through my day is often a challenge, and they can't understand what I go through on a daily basis."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you can do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's a role change and lack of identity in the ill person — he's no longer the person who does 'X,' " says Mountain View, California, oncologist William Buchholz, MD. "Friends have to learn a new relationship, just as the ill person does."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Show your friend you value her companionship as much as you ever did. Enjoy your favorite activities together, adjusting plans as needed. Ask her what accommodations would help, such as choosing a handicap-accessible restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The biggest disappointment is when someone says, 'Oh, we didn't ask you because we thought it would be too hard,' or 'Everyone else is bringing something, but you don't have to,' " says Sheila Becker, 58, who has multiple sclerosis and is a board member of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society's Cincinnati chapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm still me," she says. "It's OK to ask how I'm doing, but mostly I want to talk about stuff other than my disease." So discuss movies and music and the other things you have in common with your friend or relative. Talk about your own problems, even if they seem small compared to hers, and ask for her advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lending a hand &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both Becker and Jay cherish friends' assistance with daily activities. If you're not sure how to help, ask your friend or a close family member of hers. Avoid vague offers like "Let me know if there's anything I can do." Instead, be specific: Call your friend or relative and ask if she needs any groceries, invite her kids over for a play date, drive her to the doctor's office or load her dishwasher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get other friends and family to pitch in. You might even create a schedule and assign everyone days to bring dinner or pick up the kids from school. Make it fun, too, by gathering the group to participate in a fund-raising event; visit the website of a related health organization to find one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's best to ask your friend if she needs help before jumping in, says Becker. "Offer an arm when walking, but don't be offended if she says, 'No thanks.' Be aware: If the sidewalk changes to cobblestone, offer your arm again. The friendliest help is usually the most subtle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no perfect thing to say when your loved one is having a bad day, and nothing is wrong with admitting, "I don't know what to say." You don't have to say anything, as long as you listen to her and let her know it's OK if she wants to vent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if the sick person isn't taking medicine on time, is eating poorly or is otherwise not taking care of himself? That's a tough one, says Jay, and what you do depends on your relationship. Talk to his caregiver or a close family member first. You could gently broach the topic with your friend, but be aware that he may become angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What not to do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Certain things you say or do can brighten a person's day. But other actions may make him or her feel even worse. Here's what not to do:&lt;br /&gt;• In a health crisis, don't shower the sick person with flowers and get-well-soon cards, which he may feel obligated to acknowledge with a thank-you note. Instead, send a "thinking of you" card and offer constructive help, such as calling distant family members or picking up children from school.&lt;br /&gt;• Instead of saying, "You don't look sick" — which might imply your loved one isn't really ill — tell her she looks or sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;• Avoid rushing to do things for a chronically ill person. If you think he'll need assistance, ask, "Can I lend a hand with that?"&lt;br /&gt;• It's fine to share what you've read about the disease, Jay says, but don't bombard your chronically ill friend or family member with the latest advances in research. Chances are he knows about them already.&lt;br /&gt;• Don't visit without calling, and don't stay too long if your friend seems tired.&lt;br /&gt;• When your friend or relative expresses fears about his disease, don't trivialize the illness by saying, "You'll get better." Express your support by listening and saying, "I'm so sorry you feel bad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care of yourself &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supporting a chronically ill friend or relative can take a toll on you. You might feel sad, frustrated or even overburdened if she leans heavily on you. "My illness has caused [my family members] to feel guilty they're healthy," Jay says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A support group for friends and families of chronically ill people can help you process your feelings. Check with local hospitals and health organizations, and do an online search for the disease and "family support group." If you need time to yourself, it's OK to tell your loved one that. When you feel re-energized and relaxed, you can offer your best support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reference&lt;br /&gt;1. Kroenke CH, Kubzansky LD, Schernhammer ES, Holmes MD, Kawachi I. Social networks, social support, and survival after breast cancer diagnosis. Journal of Clinical Oncology. 2006; 24:1105-1111&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reviewed by: CME Peer Review&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;©2006 Revolution Health Group, LLC. All rights reserved&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="wrap" class="wrap"&gt;&lt;div id="wrap-top" class="wrap-top"&gt;&lt;div id="wrap-bottom" class="wrap-bottom"&gt;&lt;div id="container" class="container"&gt;&lt;!--// ENDS FOOTER --&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--// ENDS CONTAINER --&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--// ENDS WRAP-BOTTOM --&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--// ENDS WRAP-TOP --&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--// ENDS WRAP --&gt; &lt;!-- //PRINTS CLOSURE --&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;  &lt;/script&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript" charset="utf-8"&gt;   if ($.browser.msie) { jQuery.ready(); } &lt;/script&gt; &lt;!-- //ENDS CLOSURE --&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-8159791975221977906?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8159791975221977906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=8159791975221977906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8159791975221977906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/8159791975221977906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/supporting-loved-one-with-chronic.html' title='Supporting a Loved One With a Chronic Illness'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-2755124624366318365</id><published>2009-03-08T16:47:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T16:49:04.074-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not So Hot</title><content type='html'>I'm not doing so hot.  I haven't posted for a couple of days because I haven't been out of BED for a couple of days.  I'm just waiting to get my new Enbrel shots and waiting for the weather to stabilize a bit.  Until then, sitting hurts.  Walking hurts.  Even laying hurts, but it's the lesser of the three evils. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-2755124624366318365?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2755124624366318365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=2755124624366318365' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/2755124624366318365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/2755124624366318365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-so-hot.html' title='Not So Hot'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-1385623617958538999</id><published>2009-03-06T19:49:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T20:13:59.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Parable of the Spoons</title><content type='html'>I thought I'd share something I came across a few years ago. I loved it when I found it. Simply because it is EXACTLY the truth! This girl hit the nail on the head with this little story/article/theory/parable she wrote. The only difference is that she has lupus, I have arthritis. But they are very similar. Both are autoimmune diseases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, without further ado, I hereby present to you, the "Spoon Theory."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Spoon Theory&lt;br /&gt;by Christine Miserandino&lt;br /&gt;www.butyoudontlooksick.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn't seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of "spoons". But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away&lt;br /&gt;that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn't even started yet. I’ve wanted more "spoons" for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said " No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can't take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too." I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s "spoons", but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less "spoons". I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on "spoons", because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day's plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan&lt;br /&gt;like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count "spoons".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can't go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my "spoons".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;© 2003 by Christine Miserandino Butyoudontlooksick.com&lt;br /&gt;“The Spoon Theory” at www.butyoudontlooksick.com/the_spoon_theory - Thank you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-1385623617958538999?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1385623617958538999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=1385623617958538999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1385623617958538999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/1385623617958538999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/parable-of-spoons.html' title='The Parable of the Spoons'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-4785828855850283262</id><published>2009-03-06T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T19:48:57.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Going to Cry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is an entry I posted on my personal blog earlier this evening.  Going through this experience was one of the reasons I decided to create this public blog.  Maybe there are others out there who have experienced similar frustrations and here we can band together!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm generally a pretty positive person. Or at least I try to be. I have a lot of health complications and haven't had a day where I feel 100% good for about 12 or 13 years. But even through this, I TRY to stay happy and positive. And people are usually commenting that I'm a bright and cheery person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today I'm struggling. I admit that I have a lot of moments like this. Even if I don't show them to "the world." In fact, perhaps only Jeff and Heavenly Father know how much I really do struggle internally with having chronic health problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know how to blog about stuff like this most times because 99.8% of the general population doesn't understand and can't try and pretend like they do. Chronic pain is like that. Most of the health conditions I have are "silent diseases." People wouldn't know just by "looking" at me that I'm sick a lot. So I just keep everything to myself. And I express it to my husband who is amazing and dear and takes great care of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather we've been having is wreaking particular havoc on my body. The pressure changes really affect my joints and my arthritis. When it gets really bad - mostly when the weather goes from warm to cold (and especially when this change is drastic or quick) - it is hard for me to even move or get out of bed for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saving grace I have is Enbrel.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHPVVbmJdI/AAAAAAAAH74/0skNiKKDcrA/s1600-h/EnbrelLogo.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 82px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHPVVbmJdI/AAAAAAAAH74/0skNiKKDcrA/s200/EnbrelLogo.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310253401083618770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's the medication I've been taking for 8 years (next month) to control the symptoms of my arthritis. Enbrel is an injection I give myself subcutaneously. I've always injected myself in my thigh and I've never had a problem giving myself the shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, recently, I was given a new type of shot. I used to mix the medication myself in a little vial mixer they sent. (see illustration below:)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHOel7rWII/AAAAAAAAH7o/_X4rD1QxUf0/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 166px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHOel7rWII/AAAAAAAAH7o/_X4rD1QxUf0/s400/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310252460620339330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this last batch of the meds, they sent are pre-filled syringes.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHOe-ajzMI/AAAAAAAAH7w/VwKMjvbf_dY/s1600-h/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 29px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHOe-ajzMI/AAAAAAAAH7w/VwKMjvbf_dY/s400/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310252467192319170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think there'd be much of a problem. In fact, I figured it would be good - cutting out a step by eliminating me from having to mix the vials myself. But ... I just tried injecting it. And it's BAD. Awful. I am crying. The needles are bigger. Duller. It was hard to even try and inject myself in the first place. And then the solution itself BURNED going in. And I have a high tolerance for pain. But I'm talking BURNED. I couldn't even finish giving myself the injection. I know what you're thinking. "What a wuss! Just suck it up and take the pain." But I'm NOT a wuss! I've been giving myself shots regularly for EIGHT years and this is different! This is bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately went and called my doctor's office. But, because it's Friday, and after 5:00 pm, I only got their answering machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, next, I decided to do my own little online research to try and see what's going on. I found some message boards that say the new pre-filled syringes have an extra preservative in them that the old "mix it yourself" solution didn't have. And some people react very adversely to this preservative. (And apparently I'm one of those "some people.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, I'm just mad. I'm mad that the manufacturer changed the product on me. A product that I've been using for EIGHT YEARS! And product that was JUST fine before! Don't they know the old addage, "If it aint broke, don't fix it?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the next step was to call the pharmacy. I wanted to know if they accidentally messed up and sent me the new pre-filled syringes when they should have sent me the mix it yourself ones. And if they could send these ones back and give me a refund and let me get the right ones. But ... the pharmacy said they can't do that. They can't send a medication back once it's left their store. And because the medication is so expensive (without insurance, it's about $1500 per month!! Luckily I am insured ... but that's another story for another day ... or five), they can't issue a refund either. So they suggested we call the actual manufacturer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now, I'm so upset that I'm crying and frustrated (and in a lot of pain). So Jeff is doing the calling. He's on the phone with the manufacturer right now, as I type. (Which I SHOULD stop doing, because sitting is hurting.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just overheard him say that they do still make the stuff I used to take - the mix it yourself vials. And that I just have to request that my doctor write a prescription specifically for that. And that the pharmacy makes sure and fills it for the "25 mg multi-use vial." Which is actually a huge relief. And enough to make me stop crying. BUT ... in the meantime, I can't get a refund. I can't get more meds yet because the insurance only covers one dose per month and we sure as heck can't spend $1500 to get some without insurance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And.  I'm in pain.  And the only thing that helps when it gets this bad is Enbrel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. What to do? I'm going to try and buck up and give myself this new dose. Because I would rather have stinging for a couple of hours than the inability to move for 10 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've blogged about all this, I'm starting to feel silly. For venting. When most people won't even know what the big deal is. It's a little embarrassing. Which is why I almost always just keep it to myself. But I also admit that I do feel better getting it down on "paper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the good thing (if I can't give myself a shot right now) is that maybe I can get rid of the cold I've had for the past month or so that's been giving me so much grief. The only downside of Enbrel is that it is an immuno-suppressant, which means it greatly lowers my immune system. So I am almost always going to catch anything that's going around. And it knocks me out more than it does the "average Joe." But that's a small price to pay if it makes my arthritis pain all but disappear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-4785828855850283262?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4785828855850283262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=4785828855850283262' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4785828855850283262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4785828855850283262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-going-to-cry.html' title='I&apos;m Going to Cry'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SbHPVVbmJdI/AAAAAAAAH74/0skNiKKDcrA/s72-c/EnbrelLogo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-4607524238597451368</id><published>2009-03-06T19:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T19:47:39.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Living House</title><content type='html'>I took the title for this blog from one of my favorite quotes of all time - "A Living House" by CS Lewis.  This was shared with me about 8 years ago when I was first being diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and going through a really hard time.  A complete stranger, whom I had only met through the internet, shared this with me.  And it has stuck with me to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h1 id="artcle_ttl"&gt;A living House&lt;/h1&gt;       &lt;h3 id="subtitle"&gt;God is building you!&lt;/h3&gt;         &lt;div id="author"&gt;by &lt;a href="http://www.intervarsity.org/slj/authors/289" title="read other articles by this author"&gt; C.S. Lewis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;     &lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="446"&gt;      &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;       &lt;td valign="top" width="292"&gt;                     &lt;h2 id="abstract"&gt;C. S. Lewis quote. God's work in our lives can be painful, but His ultimate goal is to transform us into something better.&lt;/h2&gt;                &lt;/td&gt;       &lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;                                      &lt;/td&gt;      &lt;/tr&gt;     &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;                &lt;div id="body"&gt;&lt;p&gt;I&lt;span style="text-transform: uppercase;"&gt;magine yourself&lt;/span&gt; as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that      house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what he is doing. He is getting      the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that      those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably      and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation      is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of      — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up      towers, making courtyards.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but he      is building up a palace. He intends to come and live in it himself.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;C.S. Lewis, in &lt;i&gt;Mere Christianity&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-4607524238597451368?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4607524238597451368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=4607524238597451368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4607524238597451368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/4607524238597451368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/living-house.html' title='A Living House'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374330586101505250.post-3583641107689326753</id><published>2009-03-06T19:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T02:39:50.166-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I've Gone and Done it ... :)</title><content type='html'>So a few days ago, I finally bit the bullet and made my personal family blog private.  But I'm a very open person and think that sharing our trials with others not only is a coping mechanism for ourselves, but can also help others get through similar situations.  So I decided to make a separate, more "anonymous," and non-private blog to document by daily struggles and triumphs.  I may have no readers.  I may have only one or two.  But that doesn't matter.  This will be more for me than anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so ... here it goes ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Started Friday, March 6, 2009)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5374330586101505250-3583641107689326753?l=alivinghouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3583641107689326753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5374330586101505250&amp;postID=3583641107689326753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3583641107689326753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5374330586101505250/posts/default/3583641107689326753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alivinghouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/now-ive-gone-and-done-it.html' title='Now I&apos;ve Gone and Done it ... :)'/><author><name>Cristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='23' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_QOOcr3ziyEk/SGNgDboOWTI/AAAAAAAACHA/sgcCfaiNCwU/S220/IMG_3863b.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
