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A few nice help getting pregnant images I found:
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Chapter 2.
—
The retirement home where my mom lives is on the edge of Oakland’s Chinatown. And every month, I make the two hour drive to see her. She’s grown childish there, endearing in the way that only the old can be.
It’s become her habit to tease me when I’m around. “Look at him now,” she says to her friends and the nurses “I remember your face when it was like this.”
She moves her hands apart and arches her arthritic fingers to form an invisible ball. She likes to tell me about her friend’s daughters, the ones who are not married, since I am the only favor left that you she can arrange. I take the suggestions and naturally, I laugh them off.
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Oh, but I do have to,” she’d say.
She’s in her bed when I come into her room today. It’s Sunday. The light from the window blinds is slanted across her bed and the windows are open. A slight breeze knocks the blinds gently against the window frame. She’s focused on her book, “The Joy Luck Club”, and doesn’t notice me walking in.
“Do you actually like that?” I say.
She looks up and peers at me from over the rim of her reading glasses. Her eyes widen for a second, as though she had been expecting someone else, but they shrink when she realizes it’s me.
“Matter of fact, I do. Should I not?” she says, pushing them back up.
“No, I’m just asking. How are you mom?”
“Don’t be a book snob. I’m the same as always.”
“That’s good then. I’ve brought you something."
I put the photo album and a fresh bouquet of lilies next to the vase and lean into her for a hug. Her skin is cold and her hair smells medicinal. Bony fingers dig around my shoulders and release. She has hugged me in the same way since I was a boy; it’s the only way she knows how.
“Have you been losing weight?”
“I don’t know. Do you think I have?”
“You feel skinnier than the last time you visited.”
“I guess I’ve just been busy. I’ve almost finished moving. Ray and Doris offered me a room in their place.”
“Ray and Doris?”
“The neighbors remember? The detective with the pregnant wife. Anyway, I’ve brought you flowers.”
“I don’t know why you spend money on them,” she says.
“I bring them because I know you like them. You always kept them around the house.”
“Did I?”
“You did.”
“Which house?”
“The one in Sacramento.”
Her memory is deteriorating; I have to remind her of her former habits more often now. It comes and goes. On some days, she is able to recall events and details with a startling sharpness that surprises me. On other days, she is blank and I help her fill things in.
“What do you have this time?” she says.
I take the bouquet off and set it on her lap.
“They’re lilies,” I say, “I got them at Kiyo’s.”
“Kiyo’s a good place for flowers.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your father use to go there when he was living in Oakland.”
“You mean before I was born.”
“You’d never know but he was a very thoughtful man,” she says.
“I’m sure he was. Put them next to your nose. They’re fresh, you’ll like how they smell.”
She dog-ears the corner of the page she’s on and slides the book underneath her pillow. The cover is torn and the pages are water damaged. I remind myself to find her a newer copy at Moe’s later.
There’s an entire shelf here with books that use to belong to me.
I empty the flower vase into the bathroom sink and throw the dry and withered violets into the trash can. They are dry and withered. Violets—I am not sure who brought them but they are my mom’s least favorite flowers. Looking at their poor condition, I am surprised that none of the nurses have changed them out.
I take my glasses off and put them next to the sink. The water feels cool on my face. I fill my cupped hands and lean forward, resting my eyes in the pond until the water warms. When I put my glasses back on, I can see my pale skin and dark circles. Last night, I wrote to Anne.
On and off routines: when I am feeling good, I write to her. When I’m not and full of resentment, she doesn’t exist. Neither of these things accomplishes what I want them to. It is what it is. When one person puts in constant energy without anything in return, even the most devoted lose faith.
But routines are routines. Ray likes to tell me, “If you don’t have a routine, then you don’t have a life.”
After writing her, I spent the rest of the night awake in bed, unable to sleep until the sky was a light gray and Lhasa had come in to settle on the carpet at the foot of the bed.
“I’ve brought you something else too.” I open the photo album. The sheen from the leather’s patina of the brown leather shines like a well oiled pair of shoes. “Do you remember these? I found them in my house”
My mom puts her glasses back on.
“Where?”
“In my attic, just laying in a box.”
“Your dad and I have been looking for them.”
“I don’t know why I had it but there it was while I was moving,” I say.
She turns the pages in the album slowly, in the same way that I did when I found it.
“I know. I almost forgot what you use to look like too."
“I was beautiful,” she says.
“Sure. Do you remember this one?”
I show her the photo of the two of us standing in front of the merry-go-round at Great America. I take the photo out and place it in her hands. “This was on my fifth birthday.”
She studies it, rubbing her right thumb, searching for something recognizable, over the corner..
“You smile a lot more now,” I say.
“Do I?”
“You do.”
“That’s probably because I’ve got so much fee time. Your father took so many photos of you back then. When he visited last week, he said you were his best work.”
“Oh did he? What else did he say?”
Sometimes she talks about about my dad as if he was still here. I hear a lot of things: business trips in Taiwan, the newly opened hotel, a wig factory, a restaurant and cafe in Taipei, versions of him that I never knew because they don’t exist—I don’t have the heart to tell what’s real and what’s not.
“The two of you should talk more. I don’t like it when you guys are like this.”
“I’ll try and see if he’s around,” I say, “How is he now?”
“He’s doing good. He was so tanned the last time he was here. You should have seen him. He told me that it was because he spent a few days in Kenting but forgot to bring his hat.”
“That’s amazing. He never gets tanned.”
“Oh but he does now. I don’t mind it, he looks so much younger now. It makes the two you look much more alike. He’ll be back next month. Why don’t the both of you come together?”
“I’d like to” I say.
There’s not much else that I can say.
“Look at this one,” she says.
She’s pointing to a photo of me standing next to a girl with long brown hair and a sheepish smile. We are standing next to each other in front of the gate to the elementary school I went to after we moved. She was my first crush and my first girlfriend. We lasted two weeks before her mom found out.
“You use to paint all these pictures of her and hang them in your room. Whatever happened ?”
“We graduated and got older.”
“What was her name?”
“I don’t really remember,” I say, “I think it was Sarah.”
“May’s daughter is named Sarah too.”
“May?”
“My new friend down the hall,” she says.
“I see.”
The nursing assistant smiles as she peers into the room. It’s a new nurse; many of them rotate in and out at this center. This one has short hair that tilts forward when she looks into her clipboard.
“I don’t mean to disturb you guys but we’re going to be having lunch soon,” she says. “You must be John, you should join us.”
I look at my mom.
“Sure,” I say.
I hold her walker steady as she leans into it. One hand is placed against the small of her back while the other is on her shoulder. Together, we walk past all the other rooms on her side of the ward. Everything smells of clean laundry and I can hear our footsteps like walking in a hospital at night.
Most of the doors are closed. For the ones that are open, my mom stops and waves hello at the people inside. She introduces me to each of them. “This is my son, John,” she says, unaware that I have met most of them already. They all go along with it and I say hello.
Some of them watch TV. Some read or knit. In one room, a woman, wearing a grey beanie, stares out her window. She’s not aware of us.
“That’s Alice. She hasn’t been doing to well recently,” my mom says.
“Is she a friend of yours?”
I remember Alice from the last few visits. She always sat in the corner of the living room, by herself, while the other women congregated, playing chess, knitting, and gossiping about how their former husbands and families, former lives.
“She was very sweet,” my mom says.
“What happened?”
“Stroke.”
“I see.”
I never know how to respond to these kinds of things. My mom talks about it in the same way she’d talk about a practically cold day.
**
There are a few people in the dining room when we arrive. We sit down by the window and the same nursing assistant comes by to greet us. Now that it’s lunch, she is even more bubbly.
“Do you guys need help with anythiiiing?” she asks.
She stretches out the last syllable of every word. It annoys me.
“We’re okay,” I say.
“Are you guys sure?”
Her smile is very wide.
“We’re okay. I appreciate it though.”
“Well let me know if need anything okaaay?”
“Sure.”
The nursing assistant goes back to stacking plates and arranging utensils by the food trays.
“You can be a little nicer John,” my mom says.
“What did I do wrong?”
“Just accept it when people want to help. This is why I worry about you.”
I laugh.
“It’s nothing. Come on. Anyway, I’ll get your plate for you,” I say.
“What’s there today?”
“I’ll take a look.”
Food trays are lined up at one end of the dining room. Oven-roasted chicken breast, rice, Caesar salad, a pot of tomato and egg soup, and mashed potatoes. I come back with a plate of mashed potatoes, chicken, and soup.
Small drops of the orange liquid dribble off the edges of my mom’s spoon. I notice the tremors in her hand when she raises it towards her mouth. I take her knife and fork and start to cut the chicken breast into smaller pieces.
"I’m fine John."
"Don’t worry about it."
A woman with a thick gray perm arrives beside our table.
“Susan! I see you’re eating outside today. Do you mind if we join you?” the woman says. She’s standing without a walker. Next to her is a younger woman in a white blouse and dark blue skirt, someone around my age, I assume it’s her daughter. She has a black clutch pinned between her arm and side. Before we can answer, they are siting down across from us.
“How are you Susan?”
“Same as usual,” my mom says.
“Is this your son?”
“I’m John,” I say, "It’s nice to meet you."
The tone of her voice reminds me of past their prime real estate agents.
“It’s nice to finally see you, she’s talked a lot about you.”
“Has she?”
“All the time. Don’t ask me what she says though. Girl talk. I’m May.This is my daughter Sarah.”
“Hi,” Sarah says.
I reach over to the table and shake their hands softly.
My mother has grown quiet and is staring out the window. I put my hand on her knee underneath the table and she returns to us.
“May! How are you?”
“Getting better. Still trying to get use to things here. Sarah finally came to visit. Can you believe that?”
“You’ve only been here for a week and a half,” Sarah says.
“Oh I know! But soon, once a week becomes once a month to hardly at all,” May says.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” my mom says, “There’s always people around.”
Sarah and May do not look alike. Her face is the opposite of her mother’s sharp and bony features. And her voice is soft and low. As the dining room fills up, I find myself having to actively pay attention or her sentences would drop in and out of hearing.
After lunch, our mothers lead us to the activities room. A nursing attendant gives us a sheet of paper with their names written across the top with a diagram showing where their pieces were from their unfinished game. Sarah and I lay arrange our mother’s kings, queens, bishops, knights, rooks, and pawns.
“We started this last night but couldn’t finish before bedtime,” my mom says.
“If you didn’t spend so much time thinking, we would be done already,” May says.
“What’s the rush. We’ve got plenty of time.”
Both of the women laugh.
Sarah and I sit across from each other at the table. She watches the game as it unfolds in its languid pace, with her chin on her hand.
“Are you from here?” I ask Sarah while pointing to a stray rook diagonal of my mom’s bishop.
“Hey. No helping,” Sue says.
“Sorry,” I say.
My mom pats my knee underneath the table.
“Kind of. We’re from San Jose,” Sarah says without looking up, “You?”
“I grew up in San Jose but living in Sacramento now.”
“That’s far from here isn’t it.”
“It’s not that far; it’s about a two drive,” I say.
“If the two of you want to talk, take it outside,” May says. Her eyes do not leave the chess board. Without either of us noticing, the competitiveness has escalated.
Sarah looks as bored as I do.
“Do you want to get some coffee?” I ask her.
**
“How long has your mom been here?” Sarah says as we make our way back to the dining room.
Residents and nurses move through the halls. We pass by a room with Chow Yun Fat’s melancholic face looking back at us from a projection screen. It’s my first time here during the afternoon. I’ve always visited early in the morning or at night.
“Close to a year already,” I say.
“What’s that like?”
“It’s been good actually. The staff here do a great job.”
“I don’t mean about the nursing home,” she says.
The dining room is empty again and the nursing assistants are busy wiping table tops down and sweeping the floor. A few seniors sit by themselves, alternating between staring into their plates and taking small mouthfuls.
“It was difficult at first. But I realized that she would be better here than living with me.”
I wondered how true that was. Maybe it was me who lived better without having to take care of her.
“How long was that?”
“Two years. I guess it was the same for you?”
“Kind of. I was working in Seattle for a time when I was with my husband, My parents stayed in California. When my dad passed away, she was suddenly on her own,” Sarah says.
“It was the same for us too. Did you try to convince her to move to Seattle?”
“She didn’t want to. A little after that, we separated and I thought it’d be good for me to come back to California to be with her. I would’ve never worked out. She’s not a rainy day person as you can tell. I guess you can understand the rest after that."
The alarm on the coffee machine goes off. I find mugs for the both of us and pour.
“You know what. It’s because we’re Asian,” I say.
Sarah laughs. “Why’s that?”
“If we were white, they’d would’ve been here a long time ago. And we wouldn’t feel bad.”
“True.”
The bitter aroma of coffee and Sarah’s faint perfume stirs something potent. Scents are the strongest triggers for our memories. They’re also the least tangible. When they’re not around, you hard remember them at all. Have you ever tried to remember how something smelled? In your imagination only?
I think about the bedroom that I still have to pack.
“We should take bets,” I say, “Your mom or mine. I’ll collect on it the next time if I see you the next time we’re here.”
“And when would that be?” she says.
“Same time every month. Routines are nice once in a while. They like consistency.”
—
Accident waiting to happen
Image by loungerie
Billy Bragg: Accident Waiting to Happen
I’ve always been impressed with a girl
Who could sing for her supper and get breakfast as well
That’s the way i am, heaven help me
He said, "we don’t like peace camapigners ’round here"
As he nailed another one to the wall
And that’s what gets me in trouble, heaven help me
Goodbye and good luck to all the rubbish that you’ve spoken
Goodbye and good luck to all the promises
You’ve broken
Your life has lost its dignity, its beauty and its passion
You’re an accident waiting to happen
There you are standing at the bar
And you’re giving me grief about the ddr
And that chip on your choulder gets bigger as you
Get older
One of these night you’re gonna get caught,
It’ll give you a pregnant pause for thought
You’re a dedicated swallower of fascism
Time up and time out
For all the liberties you’ve taken
Time up and time out for all the friends that
You’ve foresaken
If you choose to waste away like death is back in fashion
You’re an accident waiting to happen
And my sins are so unoriginal
I have all the self-loathing of a wolf in sheep’s clothing
In this carnival of carnivores,
Heaven help me
www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0f5duQDYwg
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Here is a little bit more information about pcos and some books that may help you and get you on the right track. ALL of the following books can be found on www.BN.com – Barnes and Nobles or amazon Getting Pregnant what you need to know right now Pcos how to regain eneregy, vitality, and hormone balance Perfect hormone balance for fertility-the ultimate guide to getting pregnant Pcos and fertility by: colette harris
Some cool help getting pregnant images:
women’s line from the front #1
Image by Michael.Loadenthal
here is the separate, second line for women we were able to negotiate.
one day we were called by a friend from the village of Beit Furik that the checkpoint he needs to cross to leave the village and catch a taxi to university in Nablus, is closed.
he says hundreds and soon thousands of people are waiting. we left our apartment in Balata refugee camp and spent the day negotiating with soldiers, advocating for the waiting Palestinians, and documenting the checkpoint closure. from transporting water to those unable to leave the terminal, to blocking soldiers with our bodies, we helped the Palestinians resist the closure that day.
—————————————————————
complete blog entry about the day at Beit Furik checkpoint:
occupiedlove.blogspot.com/2006/08/checkpoints-checkpoints…
Today, we received a call at about 7:30am that the same checkpoint, Beit Furik, was completely closed. So we went. The same soldiers from last night were there, and were very unhappy to see us. We stayed at Beit Furik from 8:00-1:30. In that time we forced the formation of a humanitarian line to expedite children, the elderly and the sick. Also, we organized a student’s line. It is final exam season for the students of Al-Najah, and today is a big day for their exams. So, the Palestinians sorted the students from their lines, filled the car lane with bodies, and forced the soldiers to check them quickly in groups. We had many victories today, from UN workers, to pregnant women, to sick kids, to ambulances and on and on and on. We were so effective that the soldiers turned to assaulting us, threatening us, and eventually calling the police. Since the military cannot arrest us, they had the police come who seized our IDs, checked our bags, and ordered us to leave. Well, since we were at a checkpoint that under today’s conditions took over five hours to pass for Palestinians, we got in the line and spent another hour or so there. Also in the action we continuously circumvented the military to cross the checkpoint to deliver water, and to advocate for individual people who either had special needs or who were being completely denied entry.
Our presence at checkpoints really does a lot. First, we get a lot of people through one by one. Second we force the soldiers to work quicker, stop them from taking breaks to sit and chat. We also physically protect Palestinians as they cross through while the soldiers threaten to beat or shoot them. We translate. We bring water and supplies. We also organize the work for the soldiers to maximize speed. When they have five soldiers checking a car and one checking the four hundred or so people waiting, we yell at them until they put another few soldiers on ID duty. We force them to allow the Palestinians to sort themselves into priority lines, and we raise their level of protection. So for instance, when we cross the checkpoint illegally, often times, a few Palestinians mix in with us and cross under our protection. Today, after many had been waiting for over four and a half hours, a group of men ran through the crossing, and did not turn back when the soldiers saw them. As punishment, the soldiers completely closed the crossing to the remaining four hundred people. Because we argued with them, called the Israeli authorities in control of the area and other such things they had to reopen. By the time we left, a few Palestinians took over our job, locating those who needed to cross quickly, and advocating for them with the soldiers. We are growing.
Another Work In Process
Image by Tom Poes
We are now sure that Scarlet is pregnant with Apple. We think that they complement each other very well and are very excited to see what we are going to be blessed with.
Scarlet however is not that amused about what is happening too her. She complaints a lot to every willing ear… who can blame her, she’s losing her supermodel figure for now.
To help her through this rough patch, we show her episodes from Project Runway to show that Heide Klum got her figure back as well!
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Associated Maternity Issues Items
Article by Summer Madison
What if there was a way for you to become pregnant? Picture yourself a few weeks from now taking a pregnancy test and it coming back positive. You may need some advice to increase your chances of getting pregnant. In this article I have some great tips to help you get pregnant.
Regular Sex
1. You will have a greater chance of getting pregnant by having sex on a consistent basis. If you have sex regularly, then you will not have to worry about keeping up with your ovulation.
Right Sexual Positions
2. When you are having sex it is best for the man to be on top. After you have sex, you should raise your hips to help the sperm along.
Maintain a healthy diet
3. Try to stay away from junk food, sweets, processed foods, fried foods, and be sure that you are getting the proper amount of vitamins and minerals in your diet. Getting plenty of iron and Folic acid is crucial to help you get pregnant.
See your doctor regularly
4. You should see your doctor on a regular basis and ask your doctor any questions that you may have.
Find out everything you can about getting pregnant
5. You should begin a healthy way of living three months before you start trying to have a baby. Making sure your mind and body are in great shape will improve your chances of fertility and lower the possibility of having a miscarriage.
Try to avoid stress as much as possible
6. Try to not to get stressed out about trying to get pregnant. Stress has been known to be connected with infertility, so you should do your best to avoid being stressed.
Keep up with your ovulation
7. You are going to be most fertile when you are ovulating. Knowing when you are ovulating will allow you to plan sex around this time and this will increase your chances of getting pregnant.
I am going to show you how to get pregnant in the next 20 minutes. Pregnancy miracle is an online guide for women who are having trouble trying to conceive. You will find a lot of information on your body type, figuring out your exact ovulation date to help get you pregnant.
Pregnancy Miracle has helped thousands of women who need help get pregnant.
http://pregnancymiraclereviews.blogspot.com
Summer Madison has had several pregnancies resulting in 5 beautiful children. She started studying about easier eays to get pregnant when she had her own trouble trying to get pregnant. Summer is now a proud mother of 2 girl and 3 boys.
Related Help Getting Pregnant Articles
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A brief informational video about the birth parent services A Act of Love Adoptions can offer you. Since 1993 A Act of Love has helped over 1200 woman all across the country with their choice to place their child for adoption. Find out how we can help you too. Counselors are available to speak to you 24/7 at 1-800-835-6360
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