my baby would have been 2. Monday, January 19 2009

Nate’s birthday was January 17th. 

to celebrate, i’m going to tell the story of his birth.

on January 12, 2007, my midwife put me on bedrest because i’d gained 3 pounds in a week and my blood pressure was high.  my mom had moved to Chicago the week before and we were still moving her in and getting her situated, not to mention that i was waiting for her arrival to go get the nursery furniture and other things.  so, needless to say, i did not lay in bed all weekend.  i didn’t know it then, but i was nesting.

Monday, January 15th, i went back to my midwife and i’d gained another pound and my blood pressure was fine.  she did an internal exam and found that i was not dialated.  she said to me, “You might be right, and he might stay in there for 2 more weeks.”

i went home and was supposed to be at work at noon.  by the time i got home (a five minute drive, max), i felt terribly ill.  my stomach was flip-flopping and i had that horrible feeling you get right before you have to rush to the bathroom, if you know what i mean.  i went in to work and ran to the bathroom every two or three hours, but then nothing would happen.

that night i went home and went straight to bed.  all night long, i was up and in the bathroom every hour or so.  i slept little and woke up exhausted.

Tuesday, i was supposed to work 10-7.  i went in to work, feeling better but tired.  around noon, i noticed that i was having contractions.  now, i’d been having braxton-hicks for weeks, but these were regular.  they didn’t really hurt, but i spent the next two hours timing them:  every 12 minutes.

around 1pm, i lost my mucous plug.  that freaked me out.  that was the official sign.  i was in labor.

i got a bit of a second wind after lunch and told my colleagues that i was spending the rest of the day in my office.  my contractions were down to every 10 minutes and starting to stop me in my tracks.  i finished all the work that i could and left a bunch of emails with instructions for the people who would be doing my job while i was on maternity leave.  at 8:40pm, i wrote the email that said, “i believe the time has come.  i’ll probably not be here tomorrow…”  it took me 15 minutes to get to my car and another 10 to get home.

when i got home, my mom informed me that she was going to bed. ”It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow,” she said.  i asked her to make me some tomato soup and a grilled cheese and we talked strategy.  we decided that i would wake her up after i called my midwife to tell her that i was ready to come in.

i spent the next few hours in and out of the bathtub.  i would draw a hot bath and lie in it for a while, sleep, then get up and move to the couch for a while.  back in the bath, warm it up, lie in there for a while.  finally, just before 4am, i started paying attention to the amount of time between contractions.  they were close.  3-4 minutes.  i waited to see if that was true for an extended period.  i called my midwife at 4:35am and told her that i thought i was 3-4 minutes apart.  i remember that i had a contraction while i was on the phone with her, and that she was surprised that i couldn’t talk through it.  she said, “It’ll probably take you a while, so why don’t you start getting ready to come in, and I’ll meet you at the hospital.”  okay.

as i hung up the phone, my mother got up (really to pee, not because she was worried about me).  she came in the bathroom and asked how i was.  i told her that Karen said it was time to come in. 

the emergency room door was exactly 1 mile from my front door.  even so, it took us more than an hour to get there.  i was moving VERY slowly.  we got to the hospital and they took me on a long ride in a wheelchair to the maternity ward.

they got me all admitted and put me in a room.  i freaked out momentarily because i was supposed to be having a water birth, but there was no tub set up.  the nurses giggled at me and said, “Don’t worry, there’s time.”  my mom was panicky and pacing.  Karen (one of my two midwives) put me in bed and fed me red sorbet while they took a strip of my baby’s heartbeat.

my memory gets a little foggy for a while around this part.  i got out of bed and tremendously uncomfortable.  i tried sitting on a ball–no way.  i tried sitting on the toilet–comfortable but gross.  i walked around the room.  this was when they started to put up the tub.

i remember that they couldn’t get it warm enough.  it was more like a pool than a tub (temperature wise, at least).  it looked like a kiddie pool with tall sides.  but it was SOOO comfortable to be floating in water that it didn’t matter.  my mind kind of came back to me at that point.

i remember being very alert.  asking questions about the births of my midwife’s children and the nurse’s children.  it was during this time that i noticed it was light outside.  this was also the point where i could tell that contractions were coming, and i remember that i announced to the room that one was on it’s way.  my mom said, “Get ready…it’s gonna hurt.”  i swung around and smacked her, then looked at the nurse, who was mouthing don’t say that.  during one contraction, i grabbed my mom’s sleeve and bent back my fingernail.  i said, “oh! fix it! fix it!” and my mother was all discombobulated.  then she gasped when she saw it. 

at some point i asked what time it was and Noreen (my other midwife–they switched shifts at 7am) told me that it was after 8am.  she told me that i would have a baby in a few hours and i squinched my face and said, “can it be sooner?”  she smiled.

very shortly after, i got the urge to push.  Noreen said i wasn’t quite ready.  she wanted me to dialate just a bit more.  so she put a birthing stool in the tub with me and had me sit on it.  it puts you in the position that you’re in a serious squat.  it helped.  i could actually feel my hips open up a bit.  then, all of a sudden, i had no choice about the pushing.  i was grunting and screaming, and i remember saying, ” i know i’m in transition because i don’t wanna do this ANYmore!”  that made everyone giggle.

i pushed for 45 minutes.  it was hard.  i remember when the baby was crowning it felt like i was going to rip open.  such a strange feeling.  then, there was some commotion, and my mom said she could see the baby’s head.  i remember screaming, “get it out of me!”  and my mom held my hands because she thought i was going to reach down and grab him.    Noreen suggested breaking my bag of waters to move me along.  i said no.  i wanted my baby’s birth to be completely natural.

at 9:15am i pushed as hard as i could, and i watched my little boy pop out of me, literally, in to the water.  he stretched for a second then Noreen reached down and i reached down and we brought him out of the water directly on to my chest. 

And he looked at me. 

He never cried.  He just snuggled up to me.  It was perfect.

The rest of the morning was busy with phone calls and breastfeeding lessons and hustle and bustle.  We went home 36 hours later.

no one should ever have to do this. Friday, October 24 2008

Nathaniel C. Strasser    “Nate”
2007–2008 Nathaniel “Nate” C. Strasser, one and a half years old, of Aurora, was taken suddenly Tuesday, September 30, 2008. He was born January 17, 2007 in Aurora, IL. Survivors include his mother, Melissa L. Strasser; and his grandmother, Toni-Lynne Strasser. Nate was already an experienced traveler. He loved Pittsburgh, Seattle, and had been to Las Vegas more than most adults. He loved feeding the “Duckies”, terrorizing the librarians during story time, and his monkey. He waited excitedly every day for the “bool bus” that returned his friends from school. He loved animals, especially his pet pals, “Upaneenie” the cat, and the dogs “Puppy and “Appy”. And don’t forget, he was a true Pittsburgh Steelers fan.   Funeral services will be held Friday, October 3, 2008 at 7:00 PM at THE DALEIDEN MORTUARY, interment will be private. Visitation will be Friday, October 3, 2008 from 4:00 PM until the funeral hour at THE DALEIDEN MORTUARY, 220 N. Lake St., Aurora, 630-631-5500. www.daleidenmortuary.com.

the Beehive. Wednesday, December 12 2007

I love this story.

like i said, I’d spent what seemed like forever trying to get the attention of this warm, scruffy music seller that i worked with.  i strutted past the music desk every chance i got and i even made a rule in the café that i was the only staffer allowed to take out the garbage because it meant walking by the music desk.  how many girls do you know who’ll do that for ya’?

so, finally, in January of 1999, Dennis asks me if i’d like to get some coffee after class.  i tried to remain calm, and i might have succeeded for as long as it took me to get from the music desk to the café.  then i started screaming and jumping up and down like a contestant on the Price is Right.  Dennis later told me that he heard every word of my excitement from across the building.

the next morning i head off to class, looking cute in jeans and a sweater, wearing my favorite winter shoes.  now, it must be mentioned that i have a penchant for falling.  i have a weak ankle that gives out every once in a while.  there’s foreshadowing for ya’.

after class, i met Dennis at the designated corner on campus and we walked to the Beehive.  the Beehive was this old old old theater that had been turned into the second location of a local coffeehouse.  i have a special place in my heart for the original Beehive because it was one of the places i spent my nights as a teen.  i think they were open 24/7.  i would steal my mom’s car in the middle of the night and drive my friends to the coffeehouse to play cards or just sit and talk.  later, when the second locale opened up, we made friends with the baristas and would hang out there all night.  at fifteen, i had a short romance with an artist named Andrew who cleaned the theater at night in exchange for a place to paint and rehearse (he played several instruments).  he seduced me with his serenades more than once, with multiple instruments and his many talents.  but that was many years before this date.

by this time, the Beehive had expanded to include a bar and a smoking lounge on the upper floor.  so we went in, ordered our coffee, and headed upstairs–Dennis was smoking at that time.

there was a long flight of stairs interrupted midway by a landing.  i had ordered a café au lait.  what this meant for me was that i had a short, wide, completely filled ceramic cup of coffee.  i was most worried about spilling it all over myself.  what i did not envision was the edge of my shoe catching on one of the stairs on our way up.

in slow motion, the line of my ankle, then knee, then hip, then ribs, elbow, and forehead all reached down to meet the incline of the staircase.  i actually had time to think “this cannot be happening.”  at the end of the fall, i rested my forehead on the stair in closest proximity and then set my coffee on the landing. what i’m proud of is that through the whole event, i didn’t spill a drop of coffee…years of coffeehouse training.

i looked up and Dennis was on the landing.  without a laugh, smile, or smirk, he reached his hand down and asked if i was okay.  i think i fell in love with him at that very moment.

i would fall many more times…and eventually there was laughing…but not that first time.

the Biggest trick. Saturday, November 17 2007

during that first trip to Vegas, i had a moment of profound change.  that night i called it the biggest trick ever played on me.

we were at Seven, sitting on the patio, and the bouncers started going around to tell everyone that they were closing up the patio.  every one of us at the table thought they were just preparing to close the club.  we went inside and danced for a while before trying to figure out what to do next.

who knows how long we danced…we had no sense of time.  we decided to go to another club.  we headed for the door.  when the bouncer said goodnight, he opened the door.  the sun was up.  and i don’t mean that it was light out.  the sun was midsky.  it was the drugs, but i was utterly amazed.  where did the time go?

as we walked down the Strip, i realized that they weren’t closing the patio to prepare for anything…they sent us inside so we wouldn’t know that it was morning.  somehow, i felt violated…but in a good way.  kinda.

i truly believe that this was the moment i fell in love with Vegas.  there was something about the obviousness of it, the blatent masquerade.  the infliction of hedonism.  Vegas was seedy underneath that glamorous sheen, and i loved it.

and now…Dennis. Tuesday, November 13 2007

the short history is as follows:

Dennis and i met while working in one of the major bookstores.  he worked in music and i worked in the café.  he was a warm, sensitive type with a scruffy face and really beautiful eyes.  he also liked black metal, the riverdales, the cure,  and tori amos.  what can i say…i like ‘em complex.

i tried (completely unsuccessfully) to play it cool for 6 months.  he finally asked me to get a cup of coffee on January 23, 1999.  see aside, the Beehive. 

the first two years were tumultuous at best.  he was wrangling feelings for several exes, dealing with an untreated clinical depression, some drug use, etc.  and didn’t introduce me, or even refer to me, as his girlfriend.  we just spent 5 nights a week together…you know, as friends.

the next two years were literally a roller coaster.  i honestly believe we “broke up” every six to eight weeks, mostly because he “couldn’t handle it”.   there was a lovely (read: horrible and embarrasing) incident at the Library, some wonderful (read: fabulous) trips to Chicago, Boston, NYC, Montreal, Toronto, and more.  we liked to travel.   

in spring of 2004, before the Vegas trip, i explained that i thought we should break up for real.  he was 29 and living at home–his mother still did his laundry, paid his bills, and cooked for him, and he had no driver’s license.  i told him that i loved him, but that i needed him to grow up.  if that couldn’t happen, then we shouldn’t bother continuing our relationship.

he responded with, “so you want to break up because i never took home-ec?!” 

that’s the kind of guy he was.  there was a short period of vague i-hate-you-ness (this is where the Vegas trip falls), followed by an eventual reunion.  this would basically bring us up-to-date.

in my opinion, he treated me pretty badly those first years, and truthfully, i don’t know why i stayed.  i thought we were meant to be.  the worst part is that he was so inconsistent in his affections that when he did fall in love with me, i thought it wouldn’t last.  i absolutely didn’t get it.  i constantly anticipated the next breakup, or at least the next book-throwing argument, and it caused me to rehash his bad moments over and over again.  i didn’t believe in his love until it was too late.

since i’ll probably say lots of mean things about Dennis,  i’ll say this:  i love(d)  him deeply. 

he is a genius, and when he wants to be, he’s warm, sensitive, loyal, caring, and sweet.  there is a lot of love and a lot of anger in him; they make him one of the most passionate people i’ve ever met.  he is unique in a world of carbon copies, and i will always miss him.

let’s get back to the story.

where to begin? Thursday, November 8 2007

i will not start at the beginning.  i really can’t.  it’s just too much, and it’s not really what this journal is supposed to be about.

i’ll start with…the weekend of May 4th, 2004.  this is an important weekend in my life, and this post will probably take a while.

 the important information is that i started dating Dennis in January of 1999.  we’d had 5 rocky years by this point, but we were still in it.  a few months earlier, i’d gotten an evite from one of my oldest friends to attend a group trip to Las Vegas.  Alan and his friends had been going there twice a year or so for the past few years and it had been forever since we’d seen each other as we were living on opposite ends of the continent.  i was feeling like i needed a break from the rut of workandschool, so i enthusiastically said i’d attend.

i arrived late Friday night.  late late.  i got a cab directly to NY, NY, dropped my bags with the bellhop and immediately went in to see “Zumanity”, the sexiest Cirque de Soleil show on the Strip.  Alan introduced me to his boyfriend, Darren, and we all went in.  Alan being Alan (and perhaps i could relate more of that later), he got called up on stage at the end of the show.  He was wonderful!  we left the show exhilarated.  or at least i did.  We trucked over to the Monte Carlo (the most fabulous smelling casino on the Strip) and dropped my bags.  Alan and Darren said they were hitting the sheets, and for fear of being a third wheel, i decided to walk off some of my excitement.  i think i got back before the sun came up.

the following day was lazy.  lots of lounging by the pool.  i remember a creepy guy who was hitting on Alan by rubbing his groin.  ick.  and i remember meeting Rick.  Rick is handsome enough, funny, and has a way of making you know that he’s interested in what you’re saying.  he was easy to talk to, interesting, and became more attractive as the day wore on.

the big plans for that night were dinner and dancing.  we were there to abuse our bodies with whatever substances amused us most.  for the record, mine was ecstacy.

we had a wonderful dinner at Positano?, a Wulfgang Puck restaurant in the Venetian.  Dinner conversation was delightful.  Rick noticed that he and i were the only two with red wine.  i met a lot of interesting people that night.  really wonderful people.  the night continued with a handful of danceclubs.  i lost my first $100 in 8 minutes at the Palms.  i’ve never gambled there since.  we ended up at a fantastic, no-longer-there spot called Seven.  great music.  great atmosphere.  lots of other dancers on lots of substances.

as i remember it, a man sat down next to me at the table we had conquered out on the patio.  he was foreign and a little over the top and a lot annoying.  he kept saying, “whassup dog-ie?!”  he brought me a drink, and i, being well versed in the ways of deplorable men, refused.  he contested and the whole thing ended up in Rick drinking the drink.  later i asked him if he was feeling okay.

 m:”are you feeling alright?  you shouldn’t have drunk that drink.”

r: “why? why didn’t you drink it?”

m: “don’t you know anything?!  you don’t ever drink a drink from someone you don’t   know, unless the bartender hands it to you.”

r: “that’s dumb.  why?”

m, with ‘hello?’ expression: ”because people drug drinks!”

r, with exaggerated face: “oooohhh.  do you think he wanted to have sex with me?”

m, giggling: “who knows?  you should just be careful.”

AND THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING.

what i heard next was, “why, would you want to have sex with me?” 

i know that i heard this because i deliberated in my head.  remember Dennis?  yeah, i’d forgotten him until that moment, too.  i didn’t really want to tell Rick about Dennis.  and yet i felt guilty.  so i said, “well, i would want to…”  even thinking in my head that this statement left me a trap door incase i was too guilt ridden to actually do it.  i would want to, but i have a boyfriend.  i would want to but i just met you.  whatever.

and honest to jesus, we skipped over this incredibly awkward moment and Rick and i were attached at the hip the rest of the night.  until 10am.  in that time we danced, giggled, snuggled on a couch, and just talked.  and i’m willing to believe it was the ecstacy, but it felt incredibly intimate.

we caught up with the others, who were all playing Blackjack at the Monte Carlo.  i got coaxed into sitting down, even though i was pretty done with gambling after the Palms.  i decided to play small–$40.  i am happy to say that i turned that $40 in $260 before i told the dealer and my friends that i had to quit because it felt “greedy” to keep winning.   and yes, they made fun of me.  i still love the Monte Carlo, and truly, they have never stolen my money.

the next day, Sunday, i stayed awake.  god knows why.  i went to eat breakfast with Alan and Darren; we did some sight seeing, walked the Strip.  we returned to the hotel and i went to find Rick at the pool.  most of the groups’ flights left around 6, so everyone was starting to think about getting ready to go.  Rick asked me if i wanted to get something to eat, and, of course, i agreed.  we sat in the brewery, and he said, “so about last night.”  i cut him off with a tattered and babble-y comment about how he didn’t need to be embarrassed…that it was the drugs…what happens in Vegas…blah, blah, blah. 

he cut me off and said, “Melissa, I didn’t ask you to have sex with me.  You’re not really my type.”

OUCH!  and my very very clever response was, “well…i guess i’m the one who should be embarrassed then.  my apologies.”

nevertheless, Rick and i spent the remaining hours trying to be alone.  Rick finally figured something out and asked if he could shower in my room.  he showered.  i did everything in my grasp not to try and join him in there.  he came out, and we stumbled over our goodbyes.  i told him again that i was sorry for the confusion, and that i really enjoyed his company.  and to my enormous surprise, he kissed me.  a wonderful, sensual kiss; he even licked my lip just a little.  it took my breath away.  and he said, “i was wondering what it would feel like to kiss your lips with that lipring in.  it’s nice.”  i’m not sure i spoke.

most of my new friends left that evening.  my flight wasn’t until 7:15am the next morning.  at that point, i no longer had a hotel room, so i decided to stay awake all night that night too.  i roamed the Strip, went back to Seven (Sunday wasn’t their best night), and eventually ended up at a Blackjack table.  i think i put down $80.  i don’t know because it lasted me all night long.  at 6:15 i was on a serious winning streak.  i could not leave the table.  i told myself i would leave when i lost two times in a row.  at 6:40, i panicked.  at 6:50, i asked the pit boss to call me a cab–have it waiting.  i left the cage with $640.

believe it or not, i made it to the gate before 7:15.  unfortunately, Northwest Airlines has a policy that they will give away your seat if you are not there 10 minutes before departure.  the plane was still at the gate, but i wasn’t allowed to get on it.  i had been awake for 45 hours and i wouldn’t get to sleep for another 3.

arrangements were made.  coffee was drunk.  it took 3 flights and a three hour drive to get home. 

i was exhausted. 

and i had fallen head over heels with the City of Sin.

Hello world! Wednesday, October 31 2007

So, the deal is that I sit in front of a computer for many hours every day.  I can’t say I would be a blogger by nature, but I’m interested in this mode of recollecting the world.  I’ve had a few amazing things happen to me in the past year or so and I want to remember them.  And I want to pass them on to whoever might read such a silly little journal.

 This is for Nate.