This post is bulletted because that is my current working mood. MUST GET ALL TASKS ON STICKY NOTES.

• I'm back.
• A 90 minute drive took 3 1/2 hours.
• I had Ha.ry Po.t.ter to keep me company.
• The meeting was amazing.
• The company I kept was inspiring - already a true friend for life.
• The ride home was BLISSFUL, sunny skies, shopping and my good friend Harry.

• Now I'm in Combined Un-Themed Birthday Prep Mode.
• Kids staying over at Nana and Papa's tonight!
• A mini date night to follow
• Then - Home to ready the house for three 4 year olds and five 6 year olds.

I'll post again, AFTER, the big event and when my mood isn't so bullettish!

I'm Leavin' On A Jet Plane...

Oh no - that's in May. But I am going to be missing for a couple days...

If you want to know why, and just how far I will go (both mentally and physically and at 25 mph) for a mission I believe in, put on your hats, mittens, neckwarmers, and gather your ice scrapers, extra food and a flashlight - then CLICK HERE.

(please comment with best wishes and validation of my pure insanity!)

PS - Mom, I love you. You KNOW I'm employing a great measure of sarcasm here, right?...so try not to worry, too much. I promise I'll call - PROMISE!

Show and Tell - Grief Old and New

I have a creative family. We create through many mediums. My parents sing. My father plays the guitar. Both my parents are artists in their own right. I sing, but art...the draw/paint/sketch kind is lost on me. (Seriouly - I can draw rainbows and houses...the sun and a few flowers - That's It!)

Bear is a born artist. Damn- her stuff impresses me and she is only 6. The Comdian? Well, her artistic gift is more physical and words - oh her words - her timing - I'm laughing just thinking about her contorted face, all for a laugh.

And speaking of words, that seems to be my gift. The power to put them on paper and touch a soul and the ability to speak them in front crowds in an effort to further a cause. Both feel great to me, both free me of a measure of the grief that permeates - always. Oh - and I love to scrapbook, but that's more creative that artistic - but I love it just the same.

My show and tell this week is that gift - seen through my parent's eyes. The first poem was written by my father days after Emma's death. He found the strength to read it at her funeral - somehow.

The second is a poem written by my mom, only months ago, and given to us in Emma's 8th birthday card. The image on the card was as much the gift as the poem. Whoever created that image may have reached into my head and pulled out the imagined picture of Emma I hold: Long straight flowing hair, red cheeks, and a calm airy existance - enjoying every minute of her life.

Please enjoy grief - old and new - as an affirmation that grief never leaves us, only morphs and changes as we integrate it into our lives.

Angel of Love

When she was born she brought to this world
Such beauty and grace this brave little girl
She’s place in our hearts for now and for always
Beautiful Emma Grace

She’s in heaven now so holy and blessed
Peaceful and joyous – a place she can rest
She’s placed in our hearts for now and for always
Beautiful Emma Grace

This angel of love is with us today
Bringing us comfort is so many ways
She’s placed in our hearts for now and for always
Beautiful Emma Grace

September Graces

Autumn treasures
To embrace
Nature's daughter,
Emma Grace

Butterflies
With wings of lace
Graceful girl
Emma Grace

Beams of light
Dance 'round her face
Heavenly child
Emma Grace

Eight bright candles
Light your place
Birthday angel,
Emma Grace.

** Both poems have been submitted to the Share Infant And Pregnancy Loss Newsletter. The next issue's topic is GRANDPARENT'S LOSS. Please feel free to submit your own piece by clicking on the above link and following the directionso on the sidebar. The deadline is February 1st.

The Broken Thread

This post is long overdue, like the library is demanding money kind of long.

I read Ms. Monkey's post this morning. Don't know her? She's new round these parts, sadly. Go on over and say "Hello, so sad your here". And, that is exactly what her post is all about - the instant induction all us dbm's receive in the club noone wants to join. She also addressed our lack of status via a secret handshake or some other visually recognizeable symbol.

Reading it reminded me of two things. First, THIS post I wrote just after Halloween. Basically, I was saying the same thing - feeling the same thing - craving a way to recognize a fellow suffer. I just focused more intenstly on how we recognize each other. The questions resonated with me so long that Signs and Symbols was in my list for Creme-a-la Creme.

The need for contact, even a smile and a nod of recognition, led me to email the great and all-knowing Mel. Who, using her greatness and all-knowingness, gently showed me that the scarlet mark (as it were - as it is scarlet in nature) already existed. She shared with me this post, "The History of the Common Thread".

And - the symbol above. In her post she describes its purpose.

"The pomegranate-colored thread holds a two-fold purpose: to identify and create community between those experiencing infertility as well as create a starting point for a conversation. Women pregnant through any means, natural or A.R.T., families created through adoption or surrogacy, or couples trying to conceive during infertility or secondary infertility can wear the thread, identifying themselves to others in this silent community. At the same time, the string serves as a gateway to conversations about infertility when people inquire about its purpose. These conversations are imperative if we are ever to remove the social stigma attached to infertility.Tie on the thread because you’re not alone. Wear to make aware. Join us in starting this conversation about infertility by purchasingthis pomegranate-coloured thread (#814 by DMC) at any craft, knitting, or variety store such as Walmart or Target. Tie it on your right wrist. Notice it on others. Just thought I would pass the word along!"

Kudos to all who where involved in the creation of the subtle indicator so conversations may begin and connections be made. I can't even begin to imagine how many have been touched by this small and inexpensive addition to your wardrobe.

However - the more I thought about it the more I wondered about people like me? I never struggled with infertility. I can't wear this thread. For a gentle glance and tentative question, "How long did it take you?" would meet a sheepish answer from me, "Um..well..we weren't even really trying the first time." I don't know which would sting more to the woman hearing these words, the "not trying" part or the "first time" part - indicating that there were more easily conceived either live children or angels in my life.

No - fertility isn't my issue, but loss - deep and tragic loss, the kind that never leaves the marrow of your bones; that is my issue. The fact that life forced me to sit upright in a hospital bed, still bleeding from delivery, and hold a still, dead child - that is the gentle, subtle message I wish to send. To invite other women to open the conversation with a gentle glance and a tentative question, "Who did you lose?" Without hesitation or a non-grammatic filler, I would reply, "Emma Grace. My first. At forty weeks. You?"

So, I am going to pose a question. (**praying intensely that I do not offend or upset any of my TTC friends!**) Could we, the loss parents, wear a modified version of this symbol, to signify loss? I entitled this post, "The Broken Thread", but of course that is more a metaphor than a reality, for if we broke the thread then it would fall of our wrist and we would - once again - be bare wristed - showing the world -well...absolutly nothing.

No, instead I through out a suggestion. What if we picked a thread color to represent loss? Again - small, simple and cost effective and NOT re-creating the wheel! (Oh how I hate recreating that wheel!)

The Pomegranate thread can be worn independently to signal struggles with infertility.

The other thread, I vote for pale lilac* - you?, can be worn independently to signal the loss of a child, at any time during pregnancy.

Or - wear them together and we will know your dual struggle.

I don't want to divide our ALI community. The way we support and love each other's struggles even if we haven't lived through that particular shot, drug, or kind of loss is astounding.

Some suggestions that have already been made are:

1. Pick two colors that go better together.

2. Expand the write-up for the pomegranate thread to explictly include loss.

So - PLEASE comment with your own ideas, suggestions, and feelings. And PLEASE pass this link on to others so THEY can weigh in.

Cara

* - "purple lilacs symbolize death"

ILCW, ALREADY?

I seem to have difficulty keeping track of the days this month. I always feel a thrill when I realize ILCW is coming up and look forward to the 21st of the month in a way that one typically anticipates the season opener of their favorite sports team!


I totally forgot this month (hangs head in shame) until I saw a comment appear with those four tittilating letters at the end.


So, as an ILCW opener, I'm listing the top 5 activites demanding great chunks of my time (read - don't be offended if I don't get to your blog until the buzzer nearly goes off).


TOP 5 ACTIVITES DEMADING GREAT CHUNKS OF MY TIME:

5. Cooking and Laundry (they deserve mentions even if they are on the top-bottom of my list, right?)


4. Reading - current book: The Knitting Circle by Ann Hood. (I am a firm believer that reading and writing go together and to be great at one you must be committed to the other)


3. Writing - both my book and my column for Exhale magazine (don't know it? You must check it out - IT ROCKS!)


2. Blogging- Ok, this might seem like a selfish one, but I do have four* blogs you know! And - I am nit-picky enough to want them all to be authenticly writen for their own designated purpose.
This takes a lot of time! (Oh- and the totally-kickin-makeover Calli and I have up our sleeve is eating up a few minutes too!)


And, the NUMBER 1 activity demading EXCESSIVE chunks of my time is founding our local chapter of Share- Pregnancy and Infant loss support for the southern part of our state. Sure, it sounds like a no-brainer, a snap of the fingers really - but my reality check was solidified when I opened a 28 page (yes that says 28) application for non-profit status.


I am eternally grateful for all the opportunities coming my way this year and spend each minute of my time as such. But, to re-iterate the main point - I may not get to your blog until the buzzer nearly goes off - but I WILL get there - because not on the list - but very important is to ROCK THE IRON COMMENTATOR this month!


*Blogs not already liked to in this post are: The Bear and The Comedian (parenting after loss) and Wall of Angels, a memorial site for all our lost children. Please feel free to add yours by emailing me.

Martin Luther King Jr. - We All Have Two Days

Today we remember Martin Luther King, Jr. We celebrate his dreams, his visions and the fact that - although he isn't here to see the measure of equality our world now stands for - it exists, because he took a stand.


He died for his visions, his beliefs, and his dreams. In truth- he was killed for those fanicful notions. As Bear says, "The brown people and the white people didn't want to sit together on the bus. So they fighted." And how, my love - and how they did fight.


So, we honor this man on his birthday, but not on his deathday. We don't pause on April 4th, when the weather is warming slightly, the snow starting to melt and our internal spirits rising with the temperature, and say, "Here's to a man who - on some level - knew he was sacrificing his life for his beliefs." No, we recognize him on the day his mother pushed him into the world, unknowingly giving life to a man that would change the lives of millions.


Why?


I wonder what the discussion around the nominating committee table for "National Holidays Devoted To An Individual" sounded like. For, as noted in the article, "It is one of three United States federal holidays to commemorate an individual person.[1]" I wonder if there was much discussion, or if the decision to honor this man was unanimous. But more than that, I wonder if , as Reagan signed the "holiday into law" in 1983, they even debated which day to celebrate - his birthday or his deathday. I doubt it.


Before losing a child, this line of thinking would never have struck me. Before burying my baby into the earth, it made perfect sense to honor this brave man on his birthday. But now, after years of answering questions with double statements...


"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss. When did she die?"
"Well ...she died on September 6th, but she was born on September 8th."


I can't help but ask the question, if we remember this man for his life actions, why memoralize the first day of his life, instead of his last?


And yet - I suppose this makes me a hypocrite. For annually, we gather at Emma's grave with flowers, balloons, tears, and smiles on September 8th - her birthday. I choose to celebrate the day I birthed her, the day we met her serene and perfect face. I keep very busy on the day I felt "excessive" movement - the day I threw my head back and laughed, a first-time pregnancy naive laugh- as she died within me.


No judgement in this post, for I would have to judge myself right along with the group of men and women who sat in that early-80's room, creating a day to honor a great man.


No - only questions. Well - one question, really.


Regardless of our children's lifespan, 30 years or 3 days, why or why not do we choose to celebrate their birth over their death?

Show and Tell - Breathe In and Out

Keeping it brief this week.. yes - I know, Shocking!
If you already know about Exhale, the totally amazing ezine for infertiles and baby lost parents - did you know about THIS?

If you don't know about this creative, literary source...GO CHECK IT OUT! You could have your work featured - photography, poems, and don't forget to enter a "first story".

So - I'm SHOWING: Volume One - Issue Two. It came out Friday and it rocks! Breaking Roadblocks is the name of my column this month.
And - I'm TELLING you, don't forget to see what everyone else brought to class!

Delurk... (with a smirk)

I borrowed this totally awesome image from Lori. Click over and read her proposal...it may help her get to Blogher 09 and you get some ad space!

Anyhoo ;) Here's smirking at all of you who read!

If you come round these parts, but I don't know you - drop a quick comment..puhleeease?

I promise to follow you back and check out your blog! And, chances are, because I have no self control and an ever growing blogroll - I'll continue to read it.

So - (said in a very Diego camera's like gait) De-Lurk...With A Smirk" ;)

Fear is a Barnacle

Fear and Grief. They are a team. The worst kind - a tag team. They surrounded me when Emma died, consuming every part of my being. When one rested the other swept in, rejuvinated, more than able to keep me wading in a broken- unable to function - place.

My grief has morphed, evolved, shape-shifted. My life is filled with moments. I can tell her story without crying (most of the time). I can feel her presence without falling to the floor. I can love my angel baby without my heart repeatedly self-destructing. To support my growth, I take affirmative action to ensure the our daughter - or beautiful Emma Grace - is remembered always.

In a recent post I said I would, "go back", but the joke was on me. I didn't need to. My fears are still here, quiet - stealth like, but part of me forever. They took permant residence within the marrow of my bones, waiting for their chance. They attacked on Sunday morning.

The girls, all four of them, had gone to bed without any trouble - two in one room and two in another. Sure, I heard some talking. The youngest had to use the bathroom, get a quick drink of water, and "check" her sister's middle of the night flashlight to be sure it was working. But, all in all, a very smooth bedtime routine considering we had three additional kids in our house on a Saturday night.

The baby, after a very stimulating and napless afternoon, had passed out early. At 6:00 I snuggled him in, read a book, surrounded him with all his familiar bedtime paraphanlia and sang as I walked out my bedroom door. The monitor was on full blast, but we never heard a peep. That boy was tired!

"Well" I said to my husband, who looked equally napless and wiped out, "He'll probably be up at the crack of dawn." We were quite mistaken.

***
At nine o'clock I tiptoed around the pack-n-play at the base of my bed. Snuggled down under the mountain of covers necessary in an old farm house in mid January, I listened. It felt so good to have a baby in our room again. He talks in his sleep, sometimes sings a little I think. For the first two hours, I was in and out of a light slumber. I tossed when he tossed. I turned when he turned. I lay still, but heard the rustle of flannel sheets moving against the mesh sides of the portable bed. And then, I slept - until 6am - (the formally referred to "crack of dawn"). The Comedian's elephant feet thumped down the stairs. Tip-toeing past the sleeping baby I stopped for just a moment to take in the sight. The peaceful slumber of a 1 year old is a sight to behold.

That's when my demons jumped out. You better check and see if he's breathing! I scoffed, Of course he's breathing, but gripped by an irrational fear, I checked.

The baby slept. I peeled hard boiled eggs. The coffee maker buzzed.
The baby slept. I made scrambled eggs. I drank my coffee.
The baby slept. The girls pounded around on the hard wood floor, doing a morning rendition of our chicks moving in their tiny coop.
The baby slept. I took out the "you can only play with these when the baby isn't here" toys for the girls.

Fear attacked again. I tried to fend off his advances, but he was too strong. He played dirty.

You better go check on him again. His head was tilted into his blanket a bit, wasn't it.

I'm sure he's fine. Had a long day. He's just tired!

You don't know that for sure, do you?

Well...no. I guess not.

What if you let him sleep and then it's too late? What if you get up there and he's still, beyond help. Oh Cara, It's bad enough that you let your baby die without taking action, but you may have killed someone else's. GO. GO CHECK NOW!

I ran up the stairs, panicked, a feeling of dread in the my chest that hadn't squeezed me for so long. I couldn't get there fast enough. I was now sure that there was somthing wrong - that I had missed my chance to save him. That our friends who are so particular with who they entrust to watch their children would feel the same fear and despair that I have for the rest of their lives. That they would never again be able to look at me with with any semblance of respect.

No longer caring about noise levels - I pushed the door open and, with fear looking over my right shoulder and grief on my left - I peered into the crib.

He lay still - with eyes wide open. At the sight of me a huge grin grew on his perfect little face. "Aaaa" he said, not attempting to sit up, but just smiling up at me. Brushing off my shoulders, I reached down to meet his upright arms.

He is fine. I am forever haunted.

Show and Tell - "Best Five Bucks I've Ever Spent!"

I've bought LOTS of things on e-bay.

It was an on-again / off-again obsession for me.

I would visit a friends house and comment on how lovely her candle display looked. And - BAM... within 24 hours I had perused the wide array of candles, holders, and display accessories and purchased an obsene amount on that addicting auction / internet yard sale site.

"Do you think an iron scroll theme will work in the kitchen when it is done?" my husband asked me on a lazy Sunday morning. Done. Even though I was still staring at demoed walls with plaster all over my floor and a basin substuiting as a sink, these were on there way to our house.

They lived in the closet for a year and a half.

Sometimes it was batch clothing I needed, a summer set for the baby or a winter wardrobe for Bear.

Occasionally, I was desperate for a hard to find item that stores didn't carry (like that oil carrafe I broke at work and got gauged on the price from some guy in Cananda - but I HAD to replace it!).

But then there were those few, rare purchases that I still look at and smile. With pride, instead of sheepish admittance, I report, "Yes. I got that on ebay for only X dollars!"

This week, for Show and Tell, I share the best five dollars I ever spent on ebay! (I didn't get the whole kit for $5 - now THAT would be a good deal - but this was the best pic I could find!)

Are you laughing? Stop laughing. Come on - just hear me out, ok?

I've always hated to exercise but I LOVE to dance. So two years ago I ordered Turbo Jam and I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it.

Yeah - it was hard in the beginning. They zigged when I zagged. They hooked when I jabbed. But, I stuck with it and now I know the routine by heart. And (here is the wierd part) I look forward to doing it! The slight definition in my abs I noticed this morning doesn't hurt my desire to work out either.

According to my weight loss ticker on my other blog I have 16 pounds left to lose before I hit my goal weight. (If you click over and scroll to the bottom you can see the GOAL DRESS too!)

So, chuckle if you must, but I say with a big smile on my face, pride in my voice, and a shrinking waistline - My $5 turbo-jam dvd is the best ebay purchase I ever made.

WHAT'S YOURS?

Commence Segregation...

This will be one of the last posts focusing (partially at least) on Share Southern Vermont on THIS blog.

Why? Because SSV has it's very own, brand-new, shiny blog!! Click over to oooo-aaahhhh and answer the burning question in the first post!

Slowly, as time allows and as I figure out this eleged new blogging feature that allows me to transfer posts from blog to blog, I will be moving the backstory over. For the month of January the SSV Memory Making Giveaway info will remain on BOTH sites, but in February all you will see is a tiny little reminder on the sidebar to click over and feast your eyes on the NEW prize pack.

This is simultaneously exciting and sad for me. This blog feels (and pardon the ridiculous metaphor) rather like a uterus to me. It grows and expands to hold all I fill it with. It is a safe place for new idea to grow and develop, but expels it when the idea is too big, needing a new home. SSV's new home is ready, both in blogland and in a meeting room in Southern Vermont. It is time for BHB to return to it's roots for a spell.

(if you are of the praying variety please send one up that the NEXT big idea doesn't hit me over the head for a good long while! Is this is a bad time to tell you that the title of yet another book swirling around in my head popped out while driving yesterday?)

Damn tangents.

As I was saying, it is time for these posts to return to the rhumeratory nature of grief and loss throughout the years.

Recently, I have received a fair amount of comments and posts about my "upbeat nature" and "positive attitude". Yes, I certainly am taking the largest shipment of nearly rotten lemons and turning them into a bearable beverage - but, and this might sound crazy so bear with me - this blog isn't feeling like the place to be positive right now.

I don't mean that I am going to morph into a scary version of a movie character. But I do mean that I have hard some dark times. I have nearly dove headfirst into the hole many times during this grief journey. And many of you are teetering on the edge, as I type.

It is for you, the newly - and not so newly bereaved parents, that I started this blog. I owe it to you, and to myself, to write about the experience from the early years and throughout. It is eerie how easily I can put myself right back there and draw from the emotion to find words. I recently received an email in reference to my Exhale column, "Did you write that after emma died, like at that 2 month mark?"

I was stunned into a computer haze for a moment as I digested her question. The answer is no. I wrote that in December as my submission to become a comlumnist for the new magazine. But her comment made me go back and read it through her eyes, through my eyes 8 years ago.

THAT is what I want to be producing here. I'm sure occassionally I'll post something surface and fun...heck- I'm addicted to Show and Tell, aren't you?

I'll make you a deal. I'll go back if you go forward...one step, one day at a time.

xoxo to ALL of you

Life Linguistics

UPDATED: THIS IS MY 100TH POST! I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE UNTIL AFTER IT WAS POSTED. THEN, I REALIZED IT WAS A VERY APPROPRIATE FIT: A POST ABOUT WHERE THE BLOG AND I HAVE COME OVER THE LAST 4 MONTHS AND WHERE WE ARE GOING FROM HERE!

Thank you to all of you for your your heartfelt comments on the last post in response to the RH article. My two worlds ARE colliding and my real life one is exploding.

"Man! Your wife is famous!" the cashier at the local building supply store said to Jeremiah as he hoisted a bucket of mud to the counter.** (famous is a very relative term as I live in a TINY little town)

He shrugged. "You saw the paper, huh?"

Everybody has and that was the point right? The ultimate goal here was TO GET THE WORD OUT and start helping people. But, I have to admit -- the phone ringing off the hook, my inbox being flooded with responses and my Share Southern Vermont to-do list growing by the hour IS a tad overwhelming.

So, I feel led to write this post. I do not believe that it is a linguistic conincidence that responsibility, accountability, and priority rhyme. They are interconnected in the most intimate sense.

RESPONSIBILITIES: I have many, and yes --they are all a result of my own doing. Regardless I take them very seriously, and so I map them out for you here.

• My family (they do like to wear clean clothes - occasionally)
• Growing Share Southern Vermont (SSV)
• Writing a thought provoking column for Exhale Magazine
• Completing my book proposal and Selling the book!
• Distributing Memory Boxes to families

ACCOUNTABILITY: I feel accountible not only to myself, but to you. You, both my bloggy friends and IRL supporters are the reason I have made it this far in the journey. I know how important it is to stay "well" within myself and so I break down this action into two steps.

TO SELF:

• Make time for meditation and exercise
• Finish each day pleased with whatever I have managed to accomplish

TO YOU:

• Stay current with my google reader. I have enjoyed following each one of your stories and watching as you grow within your grief. I don't want to lose that even as my life demands more of me here. I will do my absolute best to stay current, but if you don't see my mug pop up for a few days...don't worry -- I'll Be Back!!!
• Segragate my topics. Once again this blog is become home to so much more than my continued grief journey of Emma Grace. Soon you will see a post about a blog dedicated JUST to SSV! Once that is complete, you will have the choice to click to my grief blog, my parenting-after-loss blog, my angel wall, OR my Share Southern Vermont blog!

PRIORITIES: It feels like time to prioritize. I won't be able to run an effective non-profit if I don't. I won't be able to attend to every part of my life, every day. That is a fact I have to accept. (read: NOT easy for me to accept and even HARDER to do)

Again, THANK YOU to all of you for your never-ending support. WE will make a difference. I just have to take it slow...one effective step at a time.

** If you read the article then you know my families real names. So, the cat is out of the bag, as they say. Even so, I'll still be using Bear and Comedian cause...well - their just too cute to let go!

Show And Tell - Holy Cannoli!

That's what I fell out of my mouth as I opened the Rutland Herald this morning to the "magazine section".

The staff writer had called me to shore up a couple quotes the other day, so I knew it was going to be in the Sunday edition, but I wasn't ready for THIS!

I have to admit, after writing my own article for the smaller local papers about Share Southern Vermont, I was concerned that someone else was writing about me and our group. With the wisdom that only grief gives us I banished the "what-ifs" and dove into the article.

It is wonderfully written. I am like a new mother today who just delivered a screaming healthy baby -- Today, I truly believe that our outreach is real. And in 10 days the sad proof will be sitting with me in a conference room sharing our stories.

A few thank you's:

• Thank you Sara for bringing my attention to Share and reminding me that I don't always have to re-invent the wheel.



• Thank you Dora for supporting me in this endeavor in so many ways, most recently with the hat-raffle.
  


• Thank you Kristin - you know why.
  


• Thank you Mel for micro-managing the blogosphere so well that we are all listed in one place. (and for enduring all my book related questions)
  


• Thank you to ALL who have donated, both here in my real-life world and from blogland. You mean so very much to me.**
  


• Thank you Carol for taking the better part of an evening to answer my endless questions about start up! And thank you for the amazing work you do in Northhampton. (I'm not done with my questions...just saving them up for my visit!)
  


• And, there is no way to thank Martha enough. She connected to this mission from 3000 miles away. She became my "West Coast Publicist". She is the one who emailed the Rutland Herald. Thank you Martha! Without you this article would never have happened.

PS - I ALREADY got a call from a sketch artist / wood burning artist who is willing to volunteer his services to personalize the boxes for each family!

** A brief explanation. Although I tried my best to convey to Josh (the writer) the mutually exclusive relationship between my face-to-face outreach and the emotional family we have in the computer, I don't think he really got it. How could he, really? It is the only part of the article that I cringed at.

** Oh - and he missed a word in the book title: After Emma: One Mother's Journey of Self-Discovery Through Grieving The Loss Of Her Baby.

"If you aren't growing - you are dying" --January SSV Prize Pack Revealed!

I heard that quote at a seminar a few months ago. It is very open to interpretation, yet also a clear and finite statement.

I read it to mean, if the results of your actions were not what you expected, then shift your action and the outcome with reflect your growth.

Last month, we had a WINNER in the Share Southern Vermont Scrapbooking Raffle. As you might recall, I was overjoyed that she won, even if it was because she purchased the only ticket!

Obviously, that wasn't the goal. I didn't manage to get the word out effectively. So, I have sat with this and decided to make a few "tweaks".

1. Tickets are now $5 instead of ten.




2. Link to the blog using the slideshow or video walkthrough to earn a free ticket. (comment, then email me for the code)




3. Write a post about SSV and the raffle and earn another free ticket.

Enter as many times as you like, and please...help me get the word out. I recall spending WAY too much money on scrapbook supplies. (I mean WAY too much! ...ok - I still do, a couple times a year) But enough about me and the ways I rationalize my hobby funds. For YOU to potentially win this fab prize pack for a mere $5 donation blows even MY mind! (Did I forget to mention these are ALL C.reat.ive Me.mem.ories products?)

Without further ado...

SHARE SOUTHERN VERMONT'S -- JANUARY PRIZE PACK

Sugar and Spice And Everything BABY GIRL!

The 12x12 album WITH pre-decorated pages and a raised image of baby shoes on the cover.

Ooodles of accessories: baby girls stickers, die cuts, write-again paper, memorablila pockets, titles and a set of fine tip journaling pens.

AND...

An assorment of baby girls papers with a whimsical birthday die-cut set.

10 Chicks - 1 Winner - and A Prayer

It takes 5-6 weeks to know the sex of a chick. So - I proudly introduce our first born. S/he arrived at 3:30pm on 12/31/08. Bear said 3:00 and was the closest. Wow - an in house winner. Most of you went with the class clown's solid "fifty-o-clock". She is going to be the class clown isn't she?

The rest of the clan hatched intermittently throughout the evening and all through the night! Yes sir - that's right. My DH (who is a truly amazing man - but never, and I mean never gets up in the night) stayed on the couch last night hopping up ever two hours for a new babe.We even have a black one! Do you see it?

We also have a sick one. H/she can't stand up and looks weak all around. Fellow chicks are lending support and if any group of connected people can pull off a miracle...it's you, but it's not looking good.

Oh- and the existing female in our house - Ms. Sally - is less than thrilled at this turn of events, or to be more specific, she cranky because we won't let her eat one.

And, CONGRATULATIONS! to Martha, winner of the SSV scrapbook raffle by default! I can't think of anyone better to kick off the winning in the monthly* raffle! Go over and nurse her back to health as she has JUST has her wisdom teeth out and is feeling pretty bad.

*I am supposed to put up the next prize pack today - a baby themed one - but I have to concede defeat to three nights in a row of waitressing until past midnight AND carrying trays up and down the stairs to the upperlevel seating. Put a fork in me ...I'm done.