you'll never believe this one.....

For the record, I am supportive if anyone chooses to carry a pregnancy to term after receiving a bad diagnosis, their choice, their body, and frankly, I'll gladly contribute tax dollars to help them raise their disabled kid to be hale and hearty. But considering all the moral condemnation that they like to heap on my head for making my choice, it's hypocritical for them to do anything less than take perfect care of a pregnancy. You can bet your ass that if Palins was a crack addict instead of an upper middle class Governor they'd be all over her.

But wait---something has happened. hahahahahahahaha

It turns out that Sarah Palins is not quite what the McCain camp thought she was, and that there is a good explanation for her doing that insane thing where she flew all over the damn place while supposedly in labour and with leaking amniotic fluid. Turns out that...drumroll please---she was NEVER in labour at all.

She was never pregnant. It was her daughter's baby!

Poor kid, her own mom steals her baby, calls it hers and carts the kid all over the world using him as a political prop, and all she gets to do is secretly hug him in the background. Meanwhile, my question is, who faked the birth certificate? Why lie to the press about this? When you are as well-known as this woman was, how could you ever think that you would get away with this? And when are criminal charges going to be laid?

I knew something was wrong....I just knew it. And for the record, one of those links has an opinion from an OB who agrees with my last post, lock stock and barrel. (And I never saw his quote, until I arrived back from Wonderland tonight.)

I was right. Mother's intuition I guess. You know, unlike grandmother's intuition.....hehe

So do you think that when John McCain's head explodes, it will go out his ears, or straight up?

Elections--yayyy

I'm waiting for the kids to get off of a ride at Canada's Wonderland and it seems to be taking a million years for the guys to finish, so what the heck, why not post?

So it appears that there may be an election going on in Canada at the same time that the U.S. election is happening. I'm going to be working away on the election, likely a few Toronto candidates. I can't do a lot these days but I figure I can transport some signs and things for them in the mega vehicle, right?

I'll let you all know if the candidates have any special interest in issues I care about, like maternal infant fetal health, etc....should be interesting considering the recent scandal with listeriosis and Maple Leaf Foods.

Sooo, about Sarah Palin. My condolences to my U.S. friends. What a horrific situation. Nightmare candidate for anyone who cares about choice or any other women's issue. She is pretty much useless to every soccer mom who cares about good schools or prenatal care or health insurance.

But really I'm more concerned about her IQ or rather, lack of it. Most of my readers know the risks of preterm birth and high risk pregnancy. You know that a little over three months ago I almost died giving birth and Julius almost died as well. So how do you all feel about her? Knowing that while she was in a high risk pregnancy with her son, at eight months pregnant, she flew to a conference in Texas, her water broke, she then gave a 30 minute speech, FLEW ON A PLANE BACK TO FUCKING ALASKA, gave birth, then did multiple photo ops with her medically fragile preemie.

She keeps saying it was all about being pro-life, and I laugh because last time I checked plenty of pro-lifers were giving birth in Texas and she sure as hell exercised poor judgement getting on a plane with broken water.

Deadbaby mamas like me believe in choice, but once you've made the choice to have the kid it's time to suck it up and take care of the baby and yourself and fuck your career. Teleconferencing exists for a reason people.

I'd rather miss a meeting than bury a child myself.

What a moron....again my condolences to you all. Go Obama, please God save us from this twit!

Meh

I am trying to get five minutes to post and to return all of your emails...but I am swamped, and also kind of meh about blogging. I'm busy as hell, not just with the baby but also with the older boys getting back from camp, and getting sorted out going to school. Plus the house reno and various other things like taking the kids to Ontario Place. I'm just trying to organize my life and when everyone gets back to school next week and settled in, life will be better. Until then, bear with me people.

I'm also sort of wondering where I fit in the blogosphere these days. I'm kind of a different mom than some of you first-timers, since I've been doing this longer and with multiple kids. (With a few admirable exceptions like my faves Lori and Rachel Inbar, my compadres!) Anyway....it's a bit hard for me to hold back on the assvice when I see some of you freaking out about stuff that really is normal. I try to be kind and reassuring, but occasionally, I stick my foot in it. And sometimes, I know I must sound like I'm talking out my ass.

I've just been through a lot lot lot of adventures with the older ones although long before blogging existed. So I kind of want to share that stuff but not sound bossy or know-it-all. Trouble is, it will end up coming out like that....or more like I'm an ancient old lady, waggling my finger.

And I don't know it all by any means. Like the Swaddle Me wasn't invented then, and it really is the best thing we've bought. I'm still learning things from Julius, who is mystifying me with his bizarre growth patterns. The kid is now doubled his growth at three months, when most kids do it at six months. He is sixteen pounds, 3 ounces as of yesterday. And exclusively breastfed---crappy latch and all. I'm still battling yeast/thrush on and off and finally turned to grapefruit seed extract on the advice on my pediatrician. (Tastes like blech btw, but it works amazingly. Put the drops in honey or maple syrup or something to hide the bitterness, or be smart and buy the pills.) I'm almost rid of it I think, but I'm still breastfeeding anyway. Mostly because I am too lazy to formula feed. I'd rather throw dishes away than wash them, and all that work mixing! Gahhh, am too much of a slacker mom.

Unfortunately I am not rid of my weight....I saw a picture of myself and realized with horror that I haven't lost an ounce of fat, and I really don't like how I look; double chins, ginormous ass and stomach. I never thought I'd lose it all by now--I'm not an idiot, but I thought I'd lose a little bit of fat. You know, gradual weight loss, maybe a pound a week until I could get rid of the fifty some-odd pounds I think I gained. I did lose ten or fifteen after giving birth, mostly baby and water, but then my milk came in and I think I gained five pounds or so. Then I got hungry and the whole plan went to hell and a handbasket.

Did you know that if you eat an entirebagofcookiesextrasteakscandybarsglassesofwinedonutshotchocolatejuicecake that you might gain weight? Or at least not lose any pre-existing weight?

Yeah, somewhere between the two steaks I ate Sunday night instead of one and the giant can of chocolate icing I ate with a spoon in a corner of the couch, I realized that I might have to stop eating like a pig. (And yes, I am being piggy. I really am. This is not just post partum hormones.)

I feel crappy, kind of sad and meh and not liking me. My new purse? After I bought it, I decided it is not as nice as I thought. Mostly because it does not make me look skinny. The pain makes it hard to exercise, but I am trying to move a bit. I've now seen a bone specialist, a physiotherapist, a masseuse, and a chiropractor, none of whom have done me any good so far.

I have lots of stuff to blog about but I just don't know if I feel like bothering. Does it do any good? Is there any point? My horoscope says I need some sleep, and my baby is up more at night.

I just don't know. I just feel fat and crappy. And I hate mirrors right now. And politics. The Democratic Convention is making me cry because poor Hillary is showing such incredible class and I think that she will not be rewarded. And the stupid Harper Tories decide to call an election while people are dying of listeriosis. Nice timing you heartless bastards....might make it easier to beat them, but still....

Crap crap crap, off to sleep.

Twelve years ago today

My darling first child was born.

If you want to know what I was doing on that day all those years ago, just go to this link, and read all about it.

Somehow he has grown up to be the most handsome fabulous manchild ever seen. Almost as tall as me and lean as a whippet, he is smart, funny and oh-so-cool. On the cusp of becoming a whole new person, I wish so much that he could stay this age, frozen in time. When he enters high school in a few weeks, everything will change, and my baby will be all grown up.

I love that he can do a Hail Mary save to catch the puck in the goalposts like nobody else.

I love that he snuggles up with his mom on the couch and watches Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes.

I love that he is a Wii wizard of fearsome repute.

I love that he is the family engineer who we all depend on to build and repair our machines.

I love that he can cradle his baby brother to sleep.

I love that he has the confidence and natural grace to toss a football with the older bigger guys at his new high school.

I love that he can cry if he needs to and laugh everyday just because.

I birthed him, I raised him, I worship him.

Happy Birthday Kaz. Happy Birthday.

So my new theory on why I am in so much pain after having the baby is a doozy, and one I hope that you will help me figure out--seeing as my Docs are not very creative. Apparently if I just get out and exercise and move a lot, that will fix everything. Except that it doesn't. I have a few stiff muscles and then I get up and get a shower and stretch and they are okay, and I am still doing exercises for physio for my stomach diastesis and they are working.

But the pain is still there, some days worse than others, sometimes livable, other days a terrible searing ache from my toes to my fingers and all the way up my back and neck. The kind of pain that makes you think about lying still and never ever moving again, if only for a little relief. And then on the weekend, I read this story about low levels of Vitamin D and chronic pain.

And then I remembered that last year I had been assessed as having low levels of vitamin D in my blood, and put on a higher level of supplements. And that my osteoporosis was likely worse because of the pregnancy and breastfeeding, even if I had taken lots of Caltrate and extra D. And I didn't take enough because lots of days I skipped it because I felt nauseous or my heartburn was bad. (I don't drink milk because I'm lactose intolerant, so I need even more, bad me....) So now I'm wondering if I am just low on D or if I have developed osteomalacia.

Rickets for grownups that is. Read the link, and if you are on bedrest or confined during pregnancy or on a special diet for pregnancy, or fertility treatment---you might want to do what I'm going to do and get a blood test for Vit D and calcium levels. My own GP is away on vacation right now, so the substitute Doc gave me a requisition and included several dozen other blood tests. I'm not sure if any of this will show anything but if I have this at least there is a cure, and maybe just maybe, it won't be so painful to get up in the morning.

So what do you all think? Is this really possible? What about all of you? Do you guys get enough D and calcium?

Run run run

This week, I have been running my ass off, and haven't been able to post much consequently.

Julia has had her baby btw, and I am filled with joie de vivre!! She is probably one of the kindest loveliest women I have ever met, and I am so very happy that all went well, and her son is here. Hugs, hugs, and more hugs honey!

I will tell all more about my activities this week coming I promise, truly. In the meantime, a list of what I've been up to:

- we bought a car, after arguing strenuously about it for days. A Buick Enclave actually. Yayyy!

- the boys gave me a lovely necklace with many sparkly teeny diamonds in it for my Big Girl Birthday. Yayyy!

- we bought a new camera, a Sony Cybershot to replace the broken one. Fresh pictures of Julius coming up ASAP!! Yayyy!

- street party at our house, many neighbours chatted and laughed, and yes we started speaking to the next door neighbour again, the one who doesn't like us. She started it. Quite shocking, but pleasant. Weird....

- We are still talking to the architects and engineers about house options. And getting the money to do it. Boo.

- the eye goo thing has stopped on Julius. Yayyy!

- it is possible for me to do laser eye surgery, but not until I am finished with the hormonal shifts of child-rearing and breastfeeding. So my laser eye fantasy isn't possible next year. Boo.

Until later my dears....must run to get the baby!

Big Girl Panty Day!

I am soooo excited to be 40 today!

Mostly because I intend on buying myself a really nice purse, and some great shoes, haha. Not too excited about the wrinkles to come, but what the hell, they can match my stretchmarks.

Seriously, this next year I have vowed to do a couple of things. First off, to get my body back in some sort of shape. Not so much for the look, but for the strength and the bone-building. I'd like to look good, and I could just starve myself to skinny pretty fast, but the flabby thing has always been my problem. NO MORE. Next year, there will be a photo on this blog of a muscle. An actual honest to God big strong muscle. Not necessarily more than one, but at least one located somewhere on my body.

I am also going to get laser eye surgery next spring, which will freak me out totally, (bottle of Ativan anyone?) but a week ago the baby grabbed my glasses and flung them about, and I was blind and helpless until the nanny found them. Totally sucks being a -9.0 near-sighted. Time to change that.

We are in the process of planning the building/renovating our house and although that might be enough, I really think I also want to apply to go back to school. (If I apply now, I could go to the Big University in our city for Sept./09, a year away) Still percolating that one. Good thing: I would be a tax write-off for the house, and instead of working three jobs, & playing cards the rest of the day in the pub like I did back then, I would study occasionally. Bad thing: I would be the old lady in the class. Maybe too old?)

I am also considering jumping in to the fray again and advocating for grieving mothers. There's been some amazing progress recently, but there needs to be more. And the stronger I feel, the more I get done.

Meanwhile, time to shower, get dressed, and put on the big girl pants.

Forty is going to be a kickass year for me.

My son has returned!!!!!!!

I am so so happy right now, because my son Kaz is back in my arms, black eyed, stitched, tanned, taller, thinner, and all in one piece thank the Gods!!!

We picked him up yesterday at the camp drop off, far north of here in the burbs, and yes we were able to avoid that crazy explosion that rocked the city, I guess that's the end of propane stations in Toronto, or hydrogen stations for that matter, and hydrogen cars. Time for electric methinks....

Good news: he had a wonderful time and wants to go back.

Bad news: he had a wonderful time and wants to go back.

Apparently, last year's camp was hell and this one was heaven. His exact words.

I lost the battle on him going to sleepaway camp, and Mr.Cotta won, but at least he is at a good camp this time and not a shitty one, and yes, I am trying to hold my head up high, and make the best of it.

Help!

Anyway, I'm trying to focus on my birthday tomorrow, because lordy lordy I'll be FORTY. I plan on having lunch with a really great old friend, and then shopping. I may still be out of shape, but I need some shoes and my feet have gone back to normal, so like Wilma Flintstone, it's time to charge.

hehe, anyone wanna be my Betty?

This is interfering with my sleep now

You know when you think about something, but you can't seem to resolve it immediately, and then it comes out in your dreams?

Well, for many years now, I have had sleep issues, bad bad sleep issues, and no, not the kind that happen when you drink too much wine, just strange nightmares, where I wake up yelling and flailing, and my poor husband has to figure out why I am pounding his chest and screaming at him at 2 am. These dreams get worse at crisis points in my life, and better during peaceful times, but they don't change much in terms of content. In my dreams, something bad is always happening.

It's sort of based on my real life situation, a life in which the only good things that have ever happened to me are my husband and my children. I have some really good, really true friends (and more since I started blogging) but other than that---not one thing on earth has ever been good. Now, I'm not peaceful and happy with the family all the time, as you guys know. My kids run amok, my husband and I argue, but hell, that's normal, right? So my terror at the possibility of losing that normalcy and returning back to the bad place is always just below the surface.

I have been nightmare free, or at least, free from the nightmares where I wake up screaming ever since Julius came home. It has been heavenly to say the least.

Until last night. Last night, I had a dream that after Julius was born by c-section, that the doctors came to me and said, "He's not done, we have to put him back in you to finish him up." So I agreed and they put him back in my uterus. A few weeks after that---we have an ultrasound, discover he is dead, and the Doctor turns to me and says, "He will be stillborn, you've screwed up again." I start screaming in the dream, and the word STILLBORN starts floating in the air past me, over and over and over again, gigantic letters I can't seem to get away from, following me around.

I woke up in a cold sweat, and checked on the baby; he was still breathing, just sleeping peacefully, happily. I'm still freaked, the dream feels so real that reality feels false.

For years my husband and I had a routine where he would gently wake me if he saw that I was having a nightmare, and it would be just enough that I would "reset" and go back to sleep and have a different dream. But since Julius has been home, I haven't needed it, and now, I do again. I hate that. I don't want to depend on him to save me asleep or awake.

I know some of you may wonder why I would worry about two now elderly adoptive parents and maybe you would think that they simply would not bother to look for me, but I think that in my case, it's more the issues around seeing them again. My adoptive brother for one, who thrived on being abusive and drunk and living off the dole would not exactly be a fun encounter. The confrontations, the endless narcissism to negotiate, the demands for attention, the public scenes, their endless parade of issues to deal with....

I'm finally happy, and I don't want to go back there. I want to sleep at night.

Thanks for listening. Truly.

I can't believe this

I am upset today and I need some help. Recently, my husband was checking his googles, or rather his Cuils, and he discovered that his name was entered on a geneology website.

Without his permission.

And so was my name, and our kids, and his parents, and my birth parents, with all our birthdates and biographical information for all the world to see, no password, no privacy protection, no nothing.

Without our permission.

And the most upsetting part of it, is that it doesn't have my real married name on it, it has my ADOPTIVE name, for fuck's sake, even though I changed it legally well over 10 years ago. And the person who created the website?

My birth mother.

Who constantly does things like this---then is mystified as to why I get upset with her afterwards. She constantly violates boundaries that we have discussed, promises to do better next time, then knowingly does it again in some other way.

Now some of you may wonder what the big deal is, since you have your lives on the web, with your kid's names and photos, but first of all, that is your choice, and your decision. You want to do that for your family, fine, but I would like to make a different choice, and she has taken that decision away from me.

More importantly, I have other concerns about my adoptive name being used on the web. I have never blogged about this, although I have spoken about it with some of you in person. You see, my adoptive parents were very very awful people, who should never have been allowed to adopt any children, but CAS really doesn't do proper checks in this province. They were violent, and still are. They do not know where I live, or that my children exist, or that I ever met and married my husband. In an age of grandparent's right's court cases, and the impossibility of ever getting a conviction against them for the abuse they perpetrated on me---I'd rather live in safe and secure anonymity.

The police, courts, and Children's Aid in this province have a pathetic record of protecting women and children from violence. After the Randall Dooley inquiry, I thought that maybe it might improve, and after all the money that the Liberals put back into violence prevention and victim's services, I really thought the CAS and the cops might get a clue. But no, disaster has struck again, and another child has been killed, as a direct result of CAS incompetence. Two different agencies didn't give a shit about doing their job and a child was murdered.

Based on what I've seen, depending on the system to save you is to stupidest thing a crime victim can do in Ontario. Really, when the auditor general of Ontario and ombudsman both agree that CAS has serious structural issues and needs oversight, yet the system refuses any all reforms, there is only one conclusion I can reach. That protecting the bureaucrat's turf is more important that protecting the citizens of Ontario. Especially the most vulnerable ones.

And as an aside, for those of you who think that women should never change their last names to their husband's name----THIS is the biggest reason why we should have the choice to do it. As long as other women in society do it, I have cover. Using my married name, means that my credit cards and university transcripts could be changed, without having to tell everyone the whole story, and convince them to help me. Instead, they just think I'm like other women, blending in to the crowd, yet protected by Privacy legislation. It really is the perfect cover for anyone who wants to flee an abusive spouse, or parent, or a bad boyfriend. Would it be nice if the system worked and they could be arrested, and I could divorce them as my adoptive parents, and just have no contact at all? Suuuure---it would also be nice if sunshine and puppies came out of my ass, but that's a fat chance too. So I'm doing whatever I have to keep myself and my kids safe, and fuck anyone who thinks that isn't a feminist choice.

To sum up, my adoptive parents might be able to find me, but it would be very very difficult.

Until now, when my birth mother, with full and complete knowledge of the situation, made it easy to find me and figure it out.

Passive aggressive much, Mom? Sigh...

My husband is writing her an email, asking her to take it down, or change it, but she might say no, just to drive me nuts. So if anyone out there reading this, has any ideas on how to get it off the website, technical or tactical or whatever, I'd be grateful.

I need all the help I can get.

Okay, the men are gone, let's party!

First, thank you so so much for all the lovely things that you said about me to my man. I am blushing, really.

So in the end, that went well. My husband thinks that blogging is like an online diary and that I seem to do well at it. He didn't read this entire thing, not enough time to go back and do it all, but what he saw was fine with him. As he put it, "Feel free to complain about me as Mr.Cotta online, if it gets it out and you can commiserate with other women about your husbands and you are happy, that's fine with me." I think he prefers that I do this as opposed to talking in real life with him, sort of like he used to view my pregnancy loss support group. He likes to talk to me, don't get me wrong, but like most men he prefers not to analyze every moment of every emotion we have.

Yes, men are from Mars and women are from Venus. And isn't it fun?

The deal is that he doesn't want to read the blog, and I keep it pseudononymous, and he hopes that I make it clear that I AM NOT A DOCTOR, so none of you think I'm giving real medical advice.

Hahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaha

Lawyers are so adorable. Honestly, if blogs hadn't taught me about heparin, and how much to get per dose and how to shoot it up without becoming a black and blue pin cushion, Julius wouldn't exist. He would have died! Geez, it's not like my frigging doctors were any help. "Oh, that miscarriage was an aberration, a bad egg, just try again and see what happens!" ---yes, lovely advice from my friendly neighbourhood medical professional.

Like I just have to point out the crazy thing I read last week, about how Doctors were surprised that in large studies the flu shot did not prevent pneumonia. And all I could think was---duh. The flu shot prevents the flu, barely, and the pneumonia vaccine prevents pneumonia. You know, the vaccine that is given once, and gives lifetime protection against 23 strains of streptoccocus and is cheap and so is free in Ontario and is highly recommended for anyone who is elderly or immunocompromised, or has a genetic clotting disorder like mine, or several other medical problems----oh, your Doctor never mentioned it? Maybe because they make so much freaking money off the annual shitty unnecessary flu shot? Or maybe because Big Pharma does not promote it because it's generic and fuck why do anything that impedes profit margins?

No honey, I'm not a Doctor, but that's a good thing I think. Less Koolaid to drink....

Women need to talk to each other. We're not men, we can't just mumble and shuffle our feet and pretend we're fine all the time. I'm not always fine, how about you?

So I am just going to blog the way I always do, and hopefully he won't mind.

Hi honeybear!

Yes, that is my affectionate name for Mr.Cotta, and yes he now knows that this blog exists....oh good lord this could be a rollercoaster.

I had been having a difficult time with my life for a long long time, not knowing what to do with myself, feeling like a failure at a career, (Thank you ADD!) feeling like a failure at school (ADD, how you stalk me!) and feeling like a failure as a woman, since my fucked up body couldn't seem to maintain a pregnancy or an estrogen level. And yes, certainly a failure as a wife and mother, since I was struggling so much with the basics....I'd rather throw dishes away than wash them, for instance. Not a winning strategy....

Then I discovered blogging, and it seemed like such a wonderful thing---a support group that I could hang out in 24/7 and maybe even contribute to in some way.

Thing is, I knew that I would likely fuck it up in some way at some point, because of course that is the pattern of my life. So I never told my very accomplished, brilliant successful husband that I had a blog, because I assumed that it was going to go down in flames instantly. Why start a problem when it could all be over so fast? And the blog did get fucked up. Two years ago, I started this thing, and only a month or so later deleted everything, and abandoned it, then started all over again.

I figured after that I'd last a month, maybe two. But it kept going, and going, and going.

And here I am tonight, having a heartfelt talk with my husband telling him that I have a blog and I never told him because it was such a stupid little thing at first, and then it was bigger, and then it was amazing, and it has really really helped my self-esteem, and mostly I never told him because I figured that he might think that what I wrote wasn't good enough.

And that would crush me if it was so.

Because even when he exasperates me to no end, I still admire his opinion more than anyone else's.

Funny thing is, he is very happy that I have been doing something creative with my time and not just commenting on other blogs. He told me that he is glad that I do have a blog since he views that as pursuing my passion to help other women who have been through pregnancy and loss. But then again, he *might* just think this blogging thing sucks.

Monday morning he will be reading this I guess, or he may just not. We'll see.

Meantime, say Hi to my Honeybear!

Camp sick

In exactly 7 days and 5 minutes I get my son back. Sorry I didn't reply to earlier questions, but I've been spending the last 24 hours in the bathroom, my intestines having been taken over by the bug from hell.

I'm sooooo freakin' sick I think that I brought it on with the stress of my kid being gone. Or maybe even because of all of our attempts to test drive cars....we have to replace the Volvo in a month and so we're on the "Keep an Open Mind Tour."

Which basically means that Mr.C. has become obsessed with only one kind of car, and I like several others and he doesn't want to admit that we have options and can afford to buy a nice one. Cheap is not my only criteria. It seems to be his only criteria. He likes the Honda Pilot. (Which drives like meh, btw.) I like the Volvo XC90 and the Acura MDX, and maybe the Lexus but we haven't checked it out yet.

Sigh....off to run to the bathroom again.

I'll write more about the cars later.

What do you all drive? Do you like it?

After that last post

I think that a little clarification is needed---at this camp, as with all sleepaway camps, no parent is ever allowed to speak to a child, and no child is ever allowed to speak to a parent. Camps are the only institution on the planet that are allowed to do that. For all I know, they could be abusing or beating the children and covering it up. They could be serving them crap for food and no one could stop them, because there are no regulations and no authorities to overlook.

I am also sick of the idiotic argument that there is something good or wonderful or better in terms of personal development if a child lives away from their parents. 95% of children NEVER GO TO CAMP, and they turn out perfectly awesome. In fact, many of them go on to be CEOs and lawyers and Doctors. Do you know who goes to sleepaway summer camp? Rich, white overprivileged kids and occasionally poor kids who are recipients of charity trips. In the past, perhaps middle class kids could afford the fees, but no more. This camp is typical of the price that most in Ontario charge, some are less, some are more.

It cost us $3000 to send Kaz to this fucking camp, for 3 weeks.

Yeah, you read that right.

The one last year was a shorter time period, but a higher rate per week.

There are hundreds of pictures up on their secure website of all the kids. Don't get me wrong, they are all smiling and well-scrubbed and cute. But they are all white. Not one black kid, not one asian, in fact, the only brown faces in the crowd are the white kids who forgot their sunscreen. And it's not that we didn't look for a diverse camp. The problem is that they don't exist. The reality is that in most cultures around the world, people simply don't send their kids to strangers to be raised. Family in an emergency, sure, but not strangers.

The other issue, is that my husband does not understand my stress----and frankly neither does everyone else. I am sitting here terrified my child is in danger, and honestly, I need you all to think about something---one of my kids almost died two months ago, and I have lost three others. I need everyone reading this to let go of their preoccupation with the word "summer camp" and their own personal desire as children to go to summer camp and just think of me as a fellow bereaved mom whose child's life is currently at risk. Can you do that, please?

Because in real life my husband doesn't worry, and neither do my friends who all went to sleepaway camp. In my mind, allowing my son to go to sleepaway camp is huge sacrifice to me. It violates every single childrearing belief I have and every value I hold dear. I did not go through all this infertility and loss just to send my kids far away and not even get to be with them. I did this for my husband, as a gift, so that he would feel like his child got to experience something he did as a child. But he doesn't think of it that way.

He views my sacrifice as nothing, totally irrelevant, and of all the things that have come of this experience, that hurts the most.