The Things I've Survived (and lived to tell the story)

I was born on the very last day of 1971. Mom says that she was knocked out with something from an IV in her arm. She remembers nothing of my birth. So weird but  I survived it.

After that wacky  birthing method (and I can't even imagine and don't want to know how they got me out since she wasn't awake to push) she and I spent only two or three days in the hospital. We got into the car, and remember back in those days there were no car seats for babies back then, and we drove the 17 miles home.

I spent my nights and naps in a crib similar to the one below. The vertical rails were spaced just far enough apart that my big alien head could have gotten stuck really good in them. And that play pen (now called pack and plays) They had drop down sides and I believe they were recalled because it was easy for a kid to get wedged into a dropped side and suffocate. We were living in dangerous times in the 70s.

But hang on, you're gonna really love this. When my sister, Jody, was about one and a half and crawling around, maybe even walking some, she had an appetite for destruction so that Christmas my mom "repurposed" the play pen and put the Christmas tree in it. I can't make this stuff up! It looked goofy as all get out but it kept the toddler out of the Christmas tree. That is a very adorable me in front of the tree/play pen but on the back of the picture it says Christmas 1975. Look at that classy gold sofa in the background!

The next thing that comes to mind that I've survived are the clothes that my parent's dressed me in or maybe more specifically, the Hee Haw overalls. Most clothes from the 1970s are just terrible. They were double knit, polyester and it made kids look like their parents didn't care about them. But those Hee Haw overalls were just plain hideous. I don't know where my mom bought them or what she was thinking but they're just terrible. I have a picture of me in them but I couldn't find them. 

Soon after that, my sister and I became friends with the kid across the street, Jimmy. One of our favorite things to do was to take our Big Wheels to the church parking lot that was across the street from our house and ride. Our moms would sit on the church steps and watch us. Our rides weren't just normal laps around the parking lot though. We would pedal as fast as our legs would allow us and then all three of us would slam into each other as hard as we could. Did it hurt? Yes! Did it stop us from doing it again? Heck no! We'd brush ourselves off and do it all over again. We'd have so many boo boos when we went home. It's the reason we have so many aches and pains today. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get up from something like that now.

Fast forward a little later to the mid and late 1980s. Big hair and the methods used to obtain said hair. Mousse, gel, crimping irons, and industrial strength hair spray. The girl in the picture isn't me but I can say that at one time my hair was that big. To create  the little wingy things over the ears, I would use a pick, hold the hair back with it, spray a lot of hair spray on the held back hair, and then use the hair dryer to dry the hair, still holding back the hair with the pick. Sometimes I would burn my ears and other times I would sit in class and discreetly peel off flakes of dried hair spray from my ears. I survived all of those styling products only to make it to the 90s and have several pixie hair cuts.

Then came my baby making days. I survived 24/7 morning sickness throughout the entire pregnancy with Courtney and then a VERY long labor and excruciating delivery with no pain medication. With Alex it was smooth sailing from beginning to the end until my ob kept inducing labor and I wouldn't dilate. I ended up having a c-section and was so glad that I did because he weighed in at 9 lbs 6 oz. The recovery was a breeze, too. Nick's pregnancy was easy and his c-section and delivery and recovery was super easy.

Since then I've survived two abusive relationships that I chose not to stay for more abuse. Most recently, I survived a light stroke in September of 2015. I know that it coudl have been a lot worse than it was, but I'm thankful that it wasn't.

So what is the point of all of this? I'm a survivor. Everything in my life, no matter how ridiculous or serious has been a lesson. I'm still here for a reason. It's time for me to start figuring out what that reason is.

Let me introduce....

Anastasia.

I wasn't planning on getting another pet. At our house we already have the cats, Olivia & Kevin Catsner, the really goofy doggy Miller, and our 15 year old turtle, Shelly. 

Last year, the kitty cat love of my life, Sophonia, died from a stroke. Her passing nearly took me with her. I loved Sophonia like I've never loved no other cat. She came into my life when I needed her most. She was born when I was in a relationship that was horrible, although I didn't know it at the time. A year ago this month she died from that stroke.

Sophonia wasn't like a "normal" cat. Most cats will only sit with you when they want to sit with you. Sophonia would sit with you whenever. You could pick her up, place her on your lap, shoulder or wherever and she was fine with that. She'd sit with you for hours on end. You know how most cats seem to be in a hurry to get in front of you and then poke along or just completely stop? Not my Sophonia. And the funniest thing she learned in her short lifetime was something she learned from her Doxie brother, Frankie. She would gallop down the hallway (we lived in a mobile home) at high speeds along side Frankie anytime they would hear our car pull into the driveway so they could greet us when we came in the door. 

The night she died, Frankie never left her side. And for weeks after her grieved until I thought he was going to starve to death. We tried different brands of dog food just trying to get our little guy to eat but the vet said he was depressed. He was missing his best friend. I knew the feeling. I was missing her, too. Even though we had several other cats, none of them could take her place. She just had this personality that was like none other.

After I left that relationship and moved back to my hometown, Olivia was adopted from the Humane Society. She was never adopted as a replacement, there could never be a replacement. We just wanted to give an older cat a second chance.

Fast forward to this month. The anniversary of Sophonia's death month. Courtney and Justin told me several times about a kitten they'd seen darting out in traffic up the street. I knew it needed to be rescued but I didn't think we needed anymore pets. Then this past Friday, Justin mentioned that he thought that the kitten was marked similarly to Sophonia. Well, that just did it for me, we had to go rescue the kitten right then and there. We have a humane trap so we put a can of tuna and a bowl of water in it, set it in where the kitten had been seen and waited.

For several days, we checked the trap but there was no luck. There was even one day that it looked like the kitten had went in the trap and eaten the food but she was so tiny that she hadn't set the trap doors off. Well, patience and persistence paid off, because as of Monday, the little girl is mine. 

Her name is Anastasia and it suits the tiny princess to a T. She doesn't resemble Sophonia exactly but there's a lot of similarities that are hard to ignore. For one, Anastasia is very happy to be held pretty much any time. And another, she's a calico like Sophonia. Also, it's more than just a coincidence that she showed up near the anniversary of Sophonia's death.

I've snuggled Anastasia a lot since she came here. And I've shed a few tears thinking of Sophonia. Some may think it's silly to think of a cat in such a way. I won't apologize for loving my pets like I do, they're more than just animals to me.