The LaValley’s Blog

Well, I begin… at the ‘middle’. 

Why?  I need to explain. Explain what?  Odd coincidences, connections, consequences, conclusions, considerations…

First thoughts? Regina’s coming… and going in my life.

Back in the spring of 1983 I had a life altering, but minor, medical ‘hiccup’ and lost my fertility.  My monthly cycle had reset to a semi-annual event.  The doctor advised me to let nature reset itself.  How?  Get pregnant again.  So, having another baby became a plan… 

Considering we had just had Helene less than a year earlier and I had just started working part-time, it was more of a thought than a plan but not an unacceptable  option.   In fact, we forgot about the whole thing.   We worked, we commuted into town daily with the kids, we got into our community through friends and Scouting, we camped and travelled.  But we didn’t get pregnant… until one summer day in 1987 when I found out I was expecting!  It was an awesome realization that Mother Nature was putting me back on track.  Once the OB/GYN had located the heartbeat we told the kids and made plans: move their schooling to our small town and prepare me to be there with them once the baby came. 

But the baby stopped growing and, just as suddenly as I had discovered I was, I suddenly wasn’t pregnant.  And at that point the kids had to stay home for school anyway.  We couldn’t go back to the way it was.  It was too late.  I was suddenly struck with a crushing sense of loss, sadness, disappointment, inadequacy.  My sister had found she was expecting her second child… and I did not want to cast a pall over Terry’s joyous anticipation.  I didn’t talk about it much, especially to the  women in my family.  Friends reminded me that I had ‘one of each’ and really didn’t need any more.  And that not having to deal with periods or birth control was absolutely enviable.

When the semi-annual cycle resumed I felt betrayed by Mother Nature.  I was now a proven fact that I could not conceive OR carry a child.  It was an empty, unwomanly, feeling.  ‘Done’ too soon.  And totally unacceptable!  So I returned to work, came home to my children and lived my life as fully as possible … and waited to see what would come. 

MCI announced in the summer of 1989 that all department would be moving away from the metro area in a year.   After an unsuccessful house-hunting trip in the winter of 1990 we soon discovered we were expecting again… a keeper this time!   There was no time to worry or over-react.  We had a house to sell, another to buy and a move to make with two grade school kids… AND I had a prototype engineering interface program (which I had designed) being rolled out in permanent code as my swan song at work.  Baby and roll out were to roughly coincide.

But multitasking was not to be for me.  Within weeks of completing the physical move to Texas, I was in the OB’s office for routine prenatal check-up and discovered that I was significantly dialated (no big surprise since this had occurred with the other two)…  and having mild contractions.  Immediate bed rest (with electronic monitoring) followed.  Although the house was not yet unpacked, the kids started school and my project went on without me.

I was released from bed rest towards the end of October and the OB expected the baby to drop out on the floor.  Two weeks later, on All Saints’ Day I could not take the pain of being kicked in the pelvis by this low riding passenger any longer.  With a little professional asssitance we were able to welcome Regina Marie (in honor of our Blessed Mother, to thank her for this miracle gift of a child)  early in the morning of All Soul’s Day.  I had the gift of a healthy child and the restoration of my fertility.  I was whole again.  I was ecstatic. 

For more than 18 years I have celebrated this uniquely blessed life, this happy child, this bright and shining personality.  I have watched her grow, gave her sibling companions, encouraged her curiosity, challenged her talents, taught and trained her, counseled her.  And then, days ago, I let her go. 

Incidentally, it should be noted that Mother Nature also marked the passing of this child out of my day to day life.  My fertility finally called it ‘quits’ this summer.   I hope it’s for ‘keeps’ this time.  I’m ready to wind down the womanly duties of my life.  This time there is a peaceful, comforting feeling that comes with the realization.  Enough time has passed. 

This is the end of the middle… but not the end.  I am content.

Well, I’m beginning to check some seriously big items off the college portion of my to-do list.  The most recent items to meet the mystical red pen in my minds eye? Moving in and drumline auditions at LSU.

So, moving in:

Newton had a law that kinda sums up the entire moving to college experience for me -  For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.   Apparently this applies outside the vague and unfathomable realm of the physics classroom and automobile crashes.  This stuff happens in my life a well.  Packing up seemed to drag on.  It was weeks of “Huh, will I need this and where should I store that” and quite a bit of “Seriously, how do I have this much STUFF to sort through?!?” thrown in the more quiet moments, just to keep things interesting.  But unpacking… that’s a whole other kettle of fish.  It’s wham, bam, thank you ma’m, and suddenly I’m chatting with my RA (who’s really sweet, btw), have a PO box for the year,  and am looking at my 95% unpacked room realizing that I hadn’t thought of curtains before now.  Actually, I probably wouldn’t have noticed for about three days unless my family had been there – acting, as always when I get a little tunnel visioned  (which is unfortunately just how I have to pack if I ever want to finish), as the other half of my brain.  Thank you guys for all your help!  Not to be cliche, but – It all happened so fast!  But yeah, I’m done for now – moved in and everything.  I like my room, which is (of course) small, but I think it’ll be comfortable for the year.

Once that was done, it was on to thinking about my drumline audition…

And, here’s a couple stats to paint a basic picture: 4 instruments to audition – 4 judges – 50ish auditionees in total.  Objective?  Fill a drumline with spots for 9 snares, 6(?) tenors, 6 basses, and 9 cymbals.  Auditions begin at 1 pm.

7 and a half hours later, I get called in for my cymbals audition, which lasts approximately 2 minutes.  Tops.  Followed by another half an hourish of waiting to hear the cymbal line get announced.  The time leading up to my audition kind of plays out like a day at the DMV.  A lot of waiting, a lot of practicing, a lot of making small talk – all to this underlying fear that your request is going to be rejected.  So yeah, I didn’t make the cymbal line.  Considering that I am a bassoonist, who hasn’t marched a show before, and there were 10 new people (the rest – percussionists) auditioning for 3 spots if you assume all the cymbal line veterans made it – I wasn’t exactly expecting to make it.  I had hoped to, but I’m just too excited to be disappointed.  I met a big group of really amazing musicians, got to help teach some cymbal technique (which I really wasn’t expecting, but was glad to help), and still have a ton of great opportunities ahead of me.

After that, I opted to take a few more days vacation and have already had the chance to discover something new that I love doing: kayaking.  Not super suprising since I love canoeing, but it’s something else I can look into pursuing on campus.  And now I’m moving on to preping for my bassoon auditions – which I will definitely update you all on once they happen.  Wish me luck!