My Bad: Forest Hills Storm Pics

Oh my, it's been a long time since I've posted. I've thought about it, does that count?

Unfortunately it seems like the last thing I want to do is sit at my computer and type; I'd be happy to buy the latest brain-to-blog software!! (Oh, wait, isn't that called an iPhone? We're waiting for Verizon to come out with that. Then, Husband says, we're gonna get 'em.)

We had some more monster rain today, though not as much damage as a couple weeks ago. (I think all the loose trees were already down!)


Here are a few pics from that first storm ... they're not scenes I normally think of when I think NYC!

Taking a Risk on Jury Duty

So, you know that person who rolls in an hour late when you've already been sitting in the jury room for an hour? Well, today that was me.

I'm usually the person there on time, listening to all the instructions, etc, etc.

But today was the first day of school. (I can hardly believe DuckyBoy's in 3rd grade!)

So, I took him to school around 8:15, drove back to Forest Hills, parked the car in our usual spot and walked over to the courthouse. I was proud of myself for not rushing! It was around 9 when I arrived. I went in and had no idea what was going on. So I sat down and read my book. (The funny part is, people kept coming in after me and asking me what was going on!)

The clerks called people by row "if you have questions," so I stayed seated. Finally one clerk said, "Anyone who still has a summons, come up now. Last chance."

So, all by my lonesome, up I went. And it was fine.

Most of the folks got sent to another jury room, but about 2 dozen of us were left behind for an hour or so -- at which time the clerk returned and announced we had fulfilled our obligation and were being sent home. YESS!!

I was going to leave at 2 pm anyway to get DB, even if I had to sneak out a bathroom window ... so it all worked out fine. I even had time to get groceries and eat lunch before going to get DB.

And it seems like his first day was fine. He's sooo happy with one of his teachers that he knows a little bit from last year, and I've heard nothing but great things about the other teacher from several moms. He has informed me that it's going to be a "pack my lunch" school year. As he would say, What-ev-er!

Doesn't Feel Like Much, Yet...

These are my days this week so far... (this is kind of an amalgamation but you get the idea.)

7 am:
Pack DuckyBoy's snack.
Get Husband's pain meds.
Take shower.
Get dressed.
Get Husband his prednisone by 8 am. (That's what the dosing info says?!).
Have first cup of coffee.
7:40:
Pick up DuckyBoy's friend and drive both boys to school.
Drive home and pick up Husband.
8:30:
Drive him to work.
Have 2nd cup of coffee.
Drive back to Queens.
9:30 am
Shop at Trader Joe's. Get heavy bag of water, flowers, chips.
10:30 am
Scrounge quarters so I can park in front of the nail salon.
Park twice so I'm not too far away from the curb.
10:35:
Let myself get talked into having my eyebrows and lip waxed in addition to bikini.
11:30:
Drive to DB's school and pick him up.
12:00:
Listen to DB vent at me.
(Monday) Take him to dentist on Long Island.
12:45:
Sit in chair with DB while dental assistant cleans his teeth.
Pet nice kitty on the way back to the car.
1:30:
(Monday) Take proud son home. Agree he should be proud to have endured cleaning he was scared of.
3:30:
Agree to take him to Disney store for a white Puffle because he was so good at the dentist. Resist comparing white puffle with tooth for fear it will be a turn-off (likely). Remind him that the Lego store (latest obsession) opened in the mall.
5 pm:
Begin feeding DB dinner.
6:45 pm:
Go to pool because it's too hot to go home.
8:10 pm:
Get home and give DB enough to eat that he stops saying "I'm starving!" and will go to bed.
8:25:
Help DB brush his teeth. Read to him. Set up "guards." Get him cold water. Check hamster. Give her fresh water. Turn off room light. Turn on nightlight and music.
8:40:
Change his fuzzy blanket for my old quilt... slightly less heat-holding, yet still protective from things that go bump in night.
8:50:
Collapse on bed next to Husband and watch TV.

* * *
We've also been to the Hall of Science with a friend, and we've been to the pool I think 3 days out of 3. And today we went grocery shopping. And, sucker that I am, I agreed to go back to the mall. I swear, this is the last Lego for a while! (I'm taking a cue from my friend and have offered DB a deal -- his next coveted set for some math work with coins ... now if I can just find that workbook I bought!

Queensboro Bridge Poem

Queens-bound traffic jam
more like a traffic noodle,
one long thin line
on the shelf of the outbound bridge.

The only thing moving is the litter
tumbling blithely in the hot breeze.

Move forward in jerky spurts
then stare at the pairs of red eyes
that glare back from the cars ahead,
resigned to our common fate in the chute.

Haiku Friday: For the Birds

Birds by the highway
splash and wash in a puddle,
no fear of danger

Two of them, so small,
found their city oasis
next to an off-ramp

I wish I could have snapped a photo of the 2 little birds I saw this afternoon-- starlings, maybe?? -- fluttering about in a puddle RIGHT next to the Queens Boulevard off-ramp of the Grand Central Parkway. (It just sounds big, right?) I was amazed at how such tiny creatures adapt to city life to the point that multi-ton vehicles zoom right past them and they just continued to splash around.

Want to play along on Haiku Friday? It's easy!

Just write a haiku (5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables) on your blog, any theme.

Put the post url into Mister Linky here, then please leave a comment after linking.

Not a blogger? Feel free to write your haiku in the comment field.

And have a great weekend!

What's the Plan Here?

Lately I find I have much more to talk about on my other blog about DuckyBoy's school issues, like his struggles to keep his desk clean.

Actually it may not be that I have so much more to say but it's easier to talk about him than the jumble in my head about everything else. I'm excited about a new client but ambivalent about the potential success of the business long-term and therefore the amount of time I put in each day toward the rest of the business.

What I really want is an 8-to-2 job in Queens that pays at least $60k. Oh, prferably 4 days so I cans till volunteer at DB's school library on Fridays. Is that so impossible? Aren't all things possible with God?

Ah, God. I just don't know where God wants me right now. feel like the phone is silent, except for messages that keep saying "Trust God, lean on God." I want to say, "To do what? To go where? What is the plan here?" I hear mixed messages from the people in my house, specifically, "Take care of us and nothing else" but "Take care of ME not him," and also, "We want you to be happy." Um, guys? That's not working so well.

I'm all over the place -- haven't yet posted here that I'm going to BlogHer in July, but since I've got conference tickets and a hotel room at this point, I guess I'm committed!

Between now and then I've got a website to help get written and running, and a half-day seminar to prepare for.

I did some figuring yesterday and scribbled numbers of hours on a calendar to make sure I get everything done in time.

Was that ever eye-opening!

Turns out I don't have to spend the amount of time I kept giving lip service to ("Oh, yes, dear, I can put in 12 hours on this!!") to get it done with plenty of revision and meeting time built in, but I do need to sit at this desk more often if I want to post, read blogs, keep up with my emails, AND work on this business. (And be done when DB gets home from school and still go to the library on Fridays.)

It's good to know. Better than the vague explanse of empty time that stretched out before.

Wish me luck!

Welcome to NY. Now Shut Up.

Husband and I need to make some decisions. How to move forward, where our money is going to come from, corporate jobs or continue trying to start our own business(es), what we want to accomplish, where we want to be as family in 10 or 20 years -- little stuff like that.

So, after spending yesterday morning sequestered in the home office tossing out questions and finding that we have no clear answers, to cheer ourselves up we went out for lunch. Yes, we have almost no income, but the weekly budget from savings includes a little bit of discretionary cash and, well, burgers at home just aren't the same.

Scene 1: The Austin Street Tea Party
We decided to go to what we call "Grumpy Guy" diner. So-called because the owner used to always yell at DuckyBoy for being in the aisle. He was always worried, so he said, that DB would trip someone up who was carrying hot food. It's a small place, and it's his place, so, OK. And he has good fries and wings. But the family nickname stuck. We just ordered in until the Squirmy Model got big enough to sit for most of the meal.

Yesterday was bitter cold, and since the car won't start we walked. After we sat down at one of the many empty tables, we ordered our beverages. Diet Coke for Husband, and since I know this diner has herbal tea, I expected the waitress to understand when I said, "lemon tea."

When a Lipton tea bag with a wedge of lemon on the side arrived, I specified, "herbal lemon tea."

"Oh, Lem-mun Zinnnger?" she said in her accented English, and upon my nod of assent she whisked away the Lipton bag and reappeared with the yellow Celestial Seasonings pouch I'd expected. (I suppose I should just order "Lemon Zinger." But it's not the brand every diner carries.)

Then, Husband ordered his burger deluxe and I ordered one of the lunch specials, a "fresh ham sandwich," along with lentil soup.

The lentil soup was disappointingly bland. As it was only noon, it was probably better by dinner time. But if that was a ham sandwich, I'll eat the plate. How long does ham have to be cooked to taste dry like turkey? I didn't really care what I had, so I ate it. It was fine. Then when I asked about it, the waitress insisted it was ham, so in retrospect, at least I didn't have to pay the difference -- since the turkey sandwich lunch special actually cost more. (I'd asked in case the ham was more.)

But then the check didn't quite add up. Not even after we figured out that the prices, scribbled down the righthand column, were in a different order than the way our food order was listed on the left. About 70 cents off, Husband estimated.

Was it even worth inquiring about 70 cents? I could see the question in his eyes.

As the TV screens all around us flickered new lows for the S&P 500, he decided to ask. The waitress matter-of-factly pointed and said, "Oh, I charged you 80 cents more for the herbal tea."

80 cents? Do you know how many bags of tea can I buy with 80 cents?

Actually, it's not the 80 cents. The price of tea at a diner is never comparable to the price of tea bags.

It's the fact that I wasn't given the choice. Some days, when faced with an 80 cent surcharge on herbal tea, I would have acquiesced. Yesterday, I'd have stuck with the regular Lipton.

Well, we won't be back there soon. For 80 cents, they've lost a customer. Three, actually.

Scene 2: We Deliver Less
Then, we decided to brave the post office. I hate going to the Forest Hills post office and avoid it whenever possible, but we had something that needed to be picked up. So it's at that branch.

As usual, there was a line. I have a system for estimating how long I will be in line, which I find helps me not get frustrated with the wait. I count the number of people in line and multiply by 5. (Other lines at stores, etc., get shorter numbers. This P.O. averages 5 minutes per patron.) While I vaguely wondered whether coming at lunchtime was a good idea -- I could just imagine the 3 workers shutting down one by one to go on lunch break, leaving 12 people in line with 1 open window -- I noticed the following extra special factors:

• One worker was valiantly punching her screen, trying to fix her broken scale.
• The second had a fascinating hangnail. She spent several moments examining it before moving to get the package that her current customer was waiting for her to weigh.
• The third was letting someone fill out all 296 forms for his 3 large international packages (with "Used goods! For personal use only! No value!" hand-written on the sides) at the window, and then chatting with him about the homeland as she processed his forms.

That chat was the last straw for the elderly lady with the pinched nose and red crocheted hat. Clutching her handbag and her package to be mailed, she began stirring up those around her. "That's not fair! He's been there for 5 minutes already and now they're chatting?!"

She then began calling to the roving supervisor who was in the middle of helping someone decide which form he needed to fill out."Excuse me! ExCUSE me!"

"You're being rude," was the supervisor's instant response, followed by, "That's what we have. End of story."

While I passed the time reading the slapped-up sign on each window urging "Former DHL Customers!" to switch to the USPS delivery services "And Save!," I was strategically holding my orange pickup notice in my hand, as sometimes the supervisor or one clerk will pull people out of line and take care of pickups.

Lucky me! After the supervisor finished helping the broken-scale worker get set up at a new window, she noticed my slip and pulled me off the line. Scrutinizing the slip as she walked to the bulletproof security door that separates the public and worker areas, she asked me, "Do you know what you're expecting? Is it a package, a registered letter? Does it require a signature? See, nothing is checked off here."

"I don't know," I replied, biting my tongue to avoid adding, "Someone who works here fills those out, don't they?" or "Welcome to my world." Because then I'd never get whatever it was.

And it was exactly what I expected: A notice from our co-op managing agent dunning us for replacing the radiator valves in our apartment THREE YEARS AGO. Because the new agent and board who took over in 2008 have decided that is not a common charge. Because those new valves have so much personal benefit to us and none for the building, never mind that we used to leave our windows open in winter while people on the building ends froze. That's of no value to the building or the board as a whole. Not saving any money on heating oil or anything.

So, not only did we get this moronic notification, but we had to endure the post office to get it. They oughta design a new stamp that says "Adding Insult to Injury" for corporate use.

Scene 3: Even More Great Customer Service
Then, I decided a cookie would cheer me up. The recession-proof upscale coffee house/bakery was right on our way home. I would have gotten my goodie To Go, but Husband said he'd have coffee if I was up for staying. So, OK.

This bakery is long and narrow, with the display cases in the front and seats in the back. One side has benches and backless stools, the other has tables and cafe chairs.

I had to interrupt a conversation between the waitresses to ask if we could choose where we sat. Yes, OK. Since there were no other patrons in the back, we had our pick. We chose back support and the second table. The first table can get the draft from the front door, so it's really the least desirable.

Now, remember, it was cold yesterday, so cold that Husband was wearing his long winter coat and a scarf. As he removed them, he draped them over the chair behind him, a chair at the first table.

One of the waitresses sprang over instantly and informed him he could not place his coat there.

He was flabbergasted. "But there's no one in here!"

"I know, but you can't take up 2 tables. What if someone wants to sit there?" she said. "You can put your coat on your own chair."

After the diner incident, I'm edgy about prices, so I scrutinize the menu. A $5 latte? Uh-uh, no way. "American coffee" for me, $1.15 a cup. And a peanut butter cookie, please.

The fact that Husband was willing to remain in the cafe tells me how much he loves me. I was almost ready to leave myself. In retrospect, I suppose we should have. Some days I need that cookie; yesterday, I could have lived without it.

The Coat Nazi turned out to be our waitress. So when she asked if I wanted my cookie heated up, I declined. (The less she did for me, the better!) She very nicely recommended it, saying it's much softer. So I agreed.

But I almost asked, Is there going to be a charge for heating it?

There wasn't. In fact it came with powdered sugar and whipped cream, and my $1.15 coffee was jumbo and delicious, and Husband and I both enjoyed it.

Even if he was a little cramped, having to share his little cafe chair with his long wool coat and all.

Epilogue: The City Kid Dilemma
Every time I have a day like this and suggest we leave NYC, Husband reminds me we made a conscious choice to raise a city kid. Yesterday's adventure makes me wonder.

Do I really want to raise a city kid, or is my goal to raise a kid who CAN survive and thrive in a city if he chooses to do so someday (like I did)?

NYC Snow Update

According to NY 1 News channel (The only news channel to watch, in my opinion), the neighborhood right next door to us got 10 inches of snow. That's more than I thought -- I said maybe 6.

Our car was covered yesterday --the 3 of us actually had fun clearing it off. DB did a great job scraping the layer of ice off the license plate. That was great not only because he enjoyed what for us would have been a tedious back-breaking job but also he could use the scraper with abandon -- usually we have to keep a close eye on him so he doesn't gouge the paint right off the car!

Aaaaand, then the car didn't start. But, that's another story. We'll see what happens today. Didn't like the cold yesterday let's see how you like it this morning when it's 12 degrees! I was grateful for the school bus this morning in a different way than usual.

DB's grumbled comment when we went outside to get the bus was priceless: "There is just as much snow today as there was yesterday. So why is there school today?!"

And then guess what! I got to scream out the window at 2 guys fighting in the street! Yeah, it's great to live in NY. More expensive, but you get a free show (with cursing!) right out your window.

So I says, "Ya wanna knock it off or shall I call the cops?" I says.

They looked up at me and waited for the other to stop first. I think one of them was my neighbor who was trying to dig his car out while he waited for his kid's bus. I don't know what the fight was about but I'm sure it was snow related.

All I know is I heard the shouting, looked out the window in time to see a punch, and then they disappeared behind a tree ... so of course I switched to another window. And there they on on the ground, and all's I can think is that one of them is gonna choke the other to death right in front of me.

And (first) I'm like, OK, so they don't have guns, (then) Not on my watch, fellas!

(Next) I actually called 911 because (after that) they got up, I wasn't sure it wasn't going to restart. (Finally) I think everyone lived. (What's with this?)

And, it's 9:30 am. I have 10 more things on my to-do list. Whoops, the phone just rang with Number 11.

So, as DB says when he's set up with whatever he needed at that moment (TV channel, snack, whatever) and he wants us to leave the room ... "Bye."

Busy Saturday

I just wore myself out telling my friend on the phone what DB and I did today, but honestly, it was a lot of fun. (Times are approximate. I only added them to break up the text.)

8 - 9:30 AM
First I got to sleep in until like 7:30 because so did DB, woohoo! And he let me stay in bed for another show, by which I mean, another half an hour. Then I unpacked all the bags from yesterday that I dumped in the front hallway. I checked my email and cleaned up the kitchen and we both had breakfast. He watched TV happily; I think it's good that he watches less during the week, he gives me a break on weekend mornings and I don't feel too badly about it.

9:30 AM - 1 PM
We played and played, then DB was itching to go to the playground with his bike (trike, actually), so he was ready to get dressed. (A big deal. Most days he'd stay in his pajamas all day if I let him.) I had something more to eat and then off we went.

1 PM - 3:30 PM
When we came back from the playground we hung at home for a little bit, then headed off to try taking the bus to Metropolitan Avenue. Partly to see if we could do it, partly to kill time, partly because the car is so loud and clanky I feel like I should avoid driving it if at all possible.

By the time we were on the bus DB was hungry, so I reminded him that the craft store (our destination) was right near Wendy's. A transfer and half an hour or so later, the bus let us off right in front of Wendy's. Perfect!

As we were eating I realized it was 2:30 and the craft event only went until 3:00. When I mentioned it, he was ready to go -- even suggested packing the fries and drink. Surprising for a person who has. dawdled. all. day.

Less than 5 minutes later we were across the street picking out a foam craft pumpkin -- usually terribly overpriced but a bargain today at $5. The idea of the event is that you get all the decorating bits (big google eyes, pipe cleaner hair, etc.) for that price too, and the woman was really nice about making sure he had time to pick stuff out. But he was so happy with his pumpkin pick -- a white one -- he didn't want anything, liking instead my suggestion to carve a face on it at home. "I got the only white one," was his comment. Interesting.

Quick stop in Trader Joe's next door, got some chips and a root beer for later/tomorrow.

3:30 pm - 5 pm
On the way back to the bus stop, I could see his legs were tired, so we hit the library for a bit. He thoroughly enjoyed the silly words in The Lorax and a special 25th-anniversary edition of Arthur's Nose. Then in 7-11 (Family Rule: do not pass by 7-11 without stopping), my suspicion that he had to pee was proved right; the counter woman took pity on us and let us into the employee bathroom. (DB was impressed that she let us use it despite the big "Employees Only" sign on the door. She said it was only because he was so handsome, and I'm not sure she was kidding.)

Of course, we got some chips at 7-11, though he tried dearly to convince me that a toy would be better. The child with more toys that he knows what to do with needs one more. I didn't bite. He took it well. "These are better than the baked," he pronounced about the regular Lay's chips. Often he picks "Baked! Lays" because, I think, he likes the exclamation point in the middle of the name.

5 - 6:30 pm
On the bus he showed me how to do "The DB Dance" -- didn't even phase him that the bus arrived when we said we'd do it at the bus stop, he just showed me on the bus!

He was up for walking home from the bus stop, the option being to transfer to another bus. We watched some pigeons on the sidewalk snag a piece of bread, he was laughing and enjoying it so much! We tried tossing them one potato chip but decided that perhaps they don't like Lay's.

Went into the kids store ("They always have stuff for kids..." he remarked as he veered in, "...of all ages.")

As we went past our local healthy-food store, I thought I'd try one more thing, and told him if he was up for going in, we could get him some "panda pudding," really the only dairy-free kind I've found (and my attempts to make it are feeble).

To my surprise, he agreed heartily! Didn't even balk at the long line! Carried the bag part of the way home!

Waffled back and forth a bit about whether he wanted to go right to the park again or home to eat pudding first. Decided on home, pudding, then park. Which is what we did -- with bike going to the park with us again.

6:30 pm - 8:30 pm
When it got dark, I finally convinced him to come home... for a bath, a buttered roll and two batches of chicken nuggets (accompanied by Little House in the Big Woods), and 3 more books -- half an hour past bedtime, but my own fault because I was just having such a good time reading to him and on weekends I don't HAVE to be such a slave to the clock -- before I finally said, No mas! I have to call my friend who's coming over!

Alas, my friend is in bed under the weather. But I told her our story and now have told you!

I was a little mad at myself for caving to DB's desire to NOT take the change to the bank on the way, but it worked out alright, since we just had time to eat and get the craft pumpkin.

And I am proud of setting limits today on telling stories. It really could have gone another way.

Another Haiku Friday

I almost missed it!
Haiku Friday a highlight
of a dreary day.

So tired of Queens --
Must everyone be a jerk?
Don't honk at THIS bus!

Started the morning
on a sour note for sure
and then another;

But things did improve
and ended with a movie
and a lion's roar.

* * * * *
I'm counting "lion's" as 2 syllables, anyone have another opinion?

These Friday haiku are inspired by blogger Christina at A Mommy Story.

A Different Sisterhood

Downer alert: This post isn’t as funny as (I hope) I usually am.

Some of you know this already. I was counting down a few weeks to announce my pregnancy, but last Thursday we got some sad news.

So now I’ve joined a different sisterhood, one I never thought I’d join, the one of women who have miscarried. Up to half of women have, says my kind new doctor. The March of Dimes says 20 to 30 percent. Out of 5 women I spoke to, 3 had either had one or knew someone who did, so that’s running closer to the doctor’s number.

On the one hand I feel guilty for feeling so much better, physically, than I have in weeks. On the other hand I feel guilty about everything I did in the past 2 weeks: Was it because I stood in front of the microwave? Took care of my son when he was ill? Fought with my husband? Ate those 2 bites of not-steaming-hot lunchmeat before I read that you’re not supposed to? In reality it probably was not any of those things. But those thoughts go through my head at random times.

We weren’t planning to have another baby, but we hadn’t been being careful about NOT having one, either, unless being too tired to do more than watch TV every night counts as contraception. I was still in the overwhelmed, can-I-do-this stage. And just starting to think about how maybe I could. And now it’s over.

It’s a strange feeling. Empty. Which in a way, ironically, sums up how I’ve been feeling anyway for quite a while. I just hadn’t been able to name it.

This blog has helped me not feel so empty. So I’ll just keep blabbing here for a bit this morning.

Like, about doctors. When I had DuckyBoy we lived in Brooklyn, and so of course my doctors were all Manhattan. I haven’t even had a gyn checkup in a few years because I so dread the trek into Manhattan from here. So needless to say I wasn’t keen to use the same obstetrics group again. Both doctors were nice but I wasn’t crazy about the delivery at Mt Sinai anyway, so to make a long story short I was shopping for an ob out here in Queens.

I’m very leery of doctors in Queens. I had a bad experience with DuckyBoy’s first Queens pediatricians; they weren't horrible, but in the end we switched to my original choice, Dr. Eden. I edited his column at American Baby for years, so I felt I knew him and I trust his choice of associate.

There’s a nice internist across the street from me, and one dermatologist who had an extremely long wait in the waiting room and another who, while seemingly fine, in the end hacked up my thumb pretty good to get rid of a wart. Anyone else might have done the same, and it was his last resort to do the surgery, but still. Left with a minor bad feeling I am.

So there I was a few weeks ago, with a positive pregnancy test and no ob. Only one friend who’s been pregnant in Queens. And I was trying to wait to tell people I was pregnant, so I didn’t really want to have to ask her.

Oh, and since Husband is self-employed now (a consultant), we have different insurance: hospitalization coverage, plus something called “Multiplan,” which is a volume-discount type of program (you pay the doctor for each visit, but you’re supposed to be charged the rate an insurance company would be billed at).

So I did what any self-respecting modern women would do: I looked online. I got names from both insurance-plan directories, Googled “Forest Hills obstetricians,” and read local parent message boards. I’m barely active on the boards, so what I found I wasn’t confident of.

Did some online research of local hospitals and called their physician referral service to get 3 names.

I even called Dr. Eden’s office; I love him and his staff, but here’s what the office manager said: “There’s one across the hall, they have nice offices and a lot of people going in and out, I can run over and get a card for you if you like.” I know she was trying very much to help, but that’s not exactly the rave referral I was looking for?! I took the name anyway; it turned out to be one I'd heard of from the message board.

The only rave referral I got was for someone in Manhattan, which is what I was trying to avoid.

So I was compiling a list of names and questions, dreading setting up a few informational appointments because I know the doctors hate those questions, roll their eyes, etc. and yet I did not want to NOT ask them.

And then the issue came to a head when I was bleeding, more than spotting, on Thursday morning.

I called everyone on the list and said, “I’m about 10 weeks pregnant, I haven’t seen an ob yet, and I’m bleeding.” I got an interesting variety of responses:
• Not in the office today.
• He can’t see you until next week.
• Even if you were our patient we’d tell you to go to the ER. (This already was my last resort, but since I wasn’t an emergency by ER standards, I knew I could be sitting there for a looooong time.)
• We’re booked but you can come sit in the waiting room and we’ll try to fit you in.
• He’s/She's no longer doing obstetrics but here’s someone else’s number.

I got this last response twice; once from one of the docs whose name was given to me by the hospital referral service (!) -- so a blind referral from a blind referral seemed way too random and I did not want to call.

The second time was from the office recommended by my friend in Queens. When I was spotting on Wednesday I had a feeling I needed someone soon, so I asked her. Of course, turns out she delivered in Manhattan, but she now sees a Long Island doctor she’s happy with. So when her doctor’s office gave me another name, I was willing to call. At least I knew someone who knew someone…

They were the last phone number I had -- and they were the only office able to give me an appointment. And I think God was in the details, since the doctor and his nurse were so nice and kind. And so was everyone at the surgical center they sent us to.

So now I feel relieved, sad, grateful, confused, ready to get back to the plans I was making before I took that pregnancy test, and empty. All at once. I believe God has plans for me, I don’t believe God makes babies die, and I believe the best way to move forward with my life is with God’s help. Would it be strange to say, “Amen”?