Forward Progress

I made decisions today! Hallelujah! Our wedding is slowly coming together...

First: the dress.

Tom and I hopped in the car yesterday and took a little road trip to McHenry, IL. It was a quaint little town with every store imaginable - including Kathryn's Bridal, home of the amazing dress from my previous post. (Yes folks, that's right, I found a store that actually had a sample for me to try on. Wahoo!) Tom dropped me off so I could finally meet the dress of my dreams, and let me tell you, it certainly lived up to every expectation that I had of it. I had absolutely no intention of purchasing the gown from that store, but my curiosity did persuade me to inquire about the price. Are you ready for this? $2,200.00 EEK! That's more than the price of our reception! Luckily for me, there are at least eight of my dress being sold online by ex-brides for less than half of that price. In fact, I'm paying less for the dress of my dreams than I would have paid for any other gown that I had considered buying. Score!

Second: the colors.
I decided that attempting to visualize the black and white damask theme in our reception room just wasn't cutting it, so I took matters into my own hands:

The "runner" actually looks more like a black and white cheetah print, but let's just ignore my lack of patience with photoshopping last night.

We decided to forego the damask idea. As much as we both love it, it just doesn't suit the room. So, we sat down and looked at my massive folder of wedding inspiration and came up with this:

Apple-green tablecloths, brown napkins

With tall white and green flower centerpieces

And a tiny hint of pink

So I think the hardest parts of this wedding planning are over with!

As Visions of Dresses Danced in Her Head

I don't know who I was kidding when I thought I could somehow plan a wedding in a mere 8 months. I am your royal highness of indeciseveness, and I will be lucky if I'm able to make one decision within that time frame.

Currently, the sticking point is with the dress. I've been to three stores and have tried on at least 40 different dresses, and I'm still unable to hunker down and settle on just one. I love the ball gown look, with the bustles in the skirt and the big dramatic train. It's the only day in my life where I would be able to get away with wearing such a dress, so why not go for it? But then I try on these lovely lace ones that are very me. Always a tiny bit of vintage love mixed in with this modern girl. The trouble? Finding a dress that incorporates both elements. Plus, I can't figure out if I like the very fitted bodice, or an A-line that would cover up my baby belly.

This is what happens when I'm given too many choices.

This is the only dress I've found that marries (ha.ha. get it?) my love of lace with my love of the ball gown:

I've been eyeing it up since the day I found it online, but that's about all I'm able to do because nobody in a 100 mile radius of Wisconsin has a sample for me to try on. How irritating is that?!

So now I'm left here to decide...

Do I buy the (expensive) dress that I know I like, or take the plunge and buy my dream dress without ever seeing it in person? OR. Do I continue shopping?

The invitation, centerpiece, music, food, etc dilemnas are sure to follow....

When Bad Things Happen to Good People

During my (seemingly) never-ending struggle with depression, self-injury, and Borderline Personality Disorder, I saw a psychologist with whom I will forever be in debt to. The darkest times of my life were walked through with him by my side, always assuring me that there was hope. He did everything within his power to help me out of the hole I was in, and never let me feel like I was in it alone. Admittedly, I wanted so bad for him to "rescue" me from the prison that was myself, that I probably forced him to cross the line a time or two. He didn't want to let me down - he couldn't let me down, out of the fear of losing me in response. I understand this extremely shitty position I put him in, and I understand that maybe he should have put his foot down at certain times. But even in thinking that, I'm always left to wonder; would I still be alive if he had? What if he hadn't been there?

This is the trouble with Borderline patients. We are so needy, and crave for someone to come save us. We'll threaten, become violent, or even attempt suicide to prove how much we need that person. And that person, feeling responsible and desperate to help, often feeds into it.

After awhile, my wonderful therapist had to throw the towel in. Even after being completely burnt out from trying everything in his power to bring me back from the edge, he still stuck with me until I was able to find a program that might suit my needs. Shortly after Christmas, I was on my way to Boston, MA to get treatment at the "famous" McLean Hospital.

Unfortunately, the guy who deserves nothing less than to see me alive, well, and happy can't even come close to me. It's been a long and drawn out battle, but my parents decided that they didn't want to pay for the time he devoted to my care. My belief is that the situation escalated into an ethics battle (however I don't know for sure because nobody will tell me anything), and for the last 6 months I have been awaiting an end to this horrific story.

A Google search provided me with the answer I didn't want to know, but needed to know:

http://psychcrimereporter.wordpress.com/2010/01/13/wisconsin-places-limitations-on-license-of-psychologist-paul-r-hamilton/

I am the 16 year old girl, and I am the monster that has created a nightmare in the life of a man that deserves nothing but praise for actually giving two shits about his patient.

It's a lot to bite off and chew. Much in the same way that he wished he could "fix" me, I wish I could fix what has happened. I'm completely and utterly powerless to do anything, and I think that's one of the worst pieces for me to try to digest. This man has done so much to help me, but there is nothing I can do to help him. Even worse? I'm the root of the problem.

Exxxxxhhausted

It's been quite a week in our household, thanks to Senor Shmaiden.

We started off last Sunday with the beginning of his misery. There was no sleep to be had on Sunday night, and Tom promptly whisked Aiden off to the pediatrician on Monday. A positive strep test and some antibiotics later, we thought we were on the road to recovery.

The antibiotics refused to take any quick action on Aiden's throat, so Tuesday and Wednesday we spent the days snuggling in front of the TV, watching every episode of Wonderpets on the DVR. It was the only thing keeping him happy, and I didn't mind getting to hold my baby. The nights were still rough, with Aiden waking up to scream and cry every few hours. I had to hold back tears myself - I hate feeling so powerless to help my child.

Thursday showed some signs of hope! The toys were back out, and I could actually put Aiden down without him getting upset. He went to daycare and did fine. Surely he was better, I thought.

Yesterday we took a trip downhill again. He was screaming so hard and so much, and for no obvious reason. Nothing made him happy. Plus, his entire face and torso was covered in a spotty rash. By 7 o'clock at night we packed up and made the journey to the Children's Hospital urgent care. After a long wait with an exhausted baby, we were told he's probably allergic to the antibiotic he was given. They gave him some Benadryl and I reluctantly walked away with a (still) screaming child.

Not content with the answer I was given, we went back to the pediatrician this morning. Why am I not content? Because a simple allergy would not make my normally perfect, happy son turn into a screaming, crying, incosolable little boy. Something is wrong and I want an answer - stat!
The doctors answer today was that it's most likely teething. Okay, yeah, I'll buy that...slightly. I don't think it's the cause of the rash, and I still have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that we're missing something. He has 6 teeth now, and he has NEVER been this bad when he's been getting one in. Why would it be any different with these new ones? Sure he's been crabby, but a little Tylenol has always done the trick, and he was never screaming at the top of his lungs for hours upon hours.

It's all been pretty stressful for me, and I'm purely exhausted from the lack of the sleep, the worry, the pacing around the house holding Aiden, and the constant effort to remain patient and calm while my son cries relentlessly. I'm so thankful for Tom, who is always willing to take him while I gather my sanity, and who is WAY more patient than I will ever be. I would be going absolutely crazy if I didn't have him.

Whatever's going on, I hope we get back to some normalcy soon.