?

I had my first official dream in which I brought home a live baby.

However, not before I jumped from a cliff into a raging river with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. I did have the sense to give the baby to a stranger prior to jumping into Niagara Falls though, so that must count for something. And, my grilled cheese sandwich landed safely in a paper plate held by another stranger down on the rocks, so score 3 points for me.

After retrieving the baby that was at that time a boy, I found myself in my childhood home. 2 days later, I realized I hadn't fed the baby (now a girl) at all, to which I responded, "Well, she didn't tell me to feed her!" I successfully fed him (yes, him) for 30 minutes straight without stopping, while watching her (yes, her) belly begin to grow bigger by the minute. I finally burped her and placed her on the bottom of my bunk bed while I removed blanket after blanket, toy after toy, hazard after hazard from her crib all decked out in pink butterflies and ruffles.

And then I woke up.

?

Elf Eviction

Dear Elf,

It has been widely brought to my attention that you have taken up residence in my uterus next to the current (and legal) tenant, sweet baby girl. For the following reasons, I respectfully request that you pack your bags and hit the road, as I have 164 days left in this pregnancy.

The little spears of fire you throw so viciously are not appreciated nor are they necessary. You must be quite fast if you can throw a spear in my calf, my uterus and my eye all in a matter of seconds. Do you have more friends in there? I mean, we all know sweet baby girl wouldn't do any of this.

Thanks to you, I cannot get comfortable on most occasions and considering the days noted above, this is not acceptable. The heartburn you give me will someday cause me to spontaneously vomit mid-sentence if I can't force it back down my throat. You could at least give me some type of warning.

Due to the energy you suck from my body, you have forced me to do nothing but watch ridiculously bad t.v. from my couch. You continue to keep me from cooking any meal that involves work or real food, and as you know (and everyone in the McD's parking lot found out...including my shoes) you won the fight after lunch the other day.

Considering the above reasons, you are hereby notified to vacate the premises described in the address above (my uterus) within 24 hours of the date of the delivery of this notice to you. I am happy to escort you out in any fashion possible and will even help you find real estate that includes a little more room and is not currently occupied. If you fail to vacate within this period, court proceedings will be taken immediately to evict you from the premises via the honorable Judge, My Babe.

Thank you for your attention to this matter,

The Landlord

Better. And For That I Am THANKFUL

Thanks to a lot of prayer and some hefty steroids, Peanut is pretty much back to normal. And, considering the holidays are not the brightest of times for me, I am eternally thankful for this gift.

Thanksgiving Day 2000, was the day the doctor called to say my dad had incurable lung cancer.

Thanksgiving weekend 2005, was filled with work on sub plans since I was certain Dr. Jerk was finally going to listen and put me on bed rest. Two days later, I was in the hospital in a magnesium stupor, unsuccessfully trying to stop labor.

But today, Thanksgiving 2007, I am extremely thankful for this pregnancy and sweet baby girl growing as I type. It's just hard to shake the feelings of the holidays, and Thanksgiving marks the beginning.

Please Pray For My Sweet Puppy

Peanut isn't doing well and I experienced my first ever full blown panic attack. It wasn't pretty and I was even surprised at my unstoppable reaction. I guess I'm just tired of losing things.

The vet says she could have a tumor, could be having mini-strokes or her symptoms could be the result of geriatric vestibular disease. Either way, our time is limited as she is 13 years old. I have had her since she was 6 weeks old and she has lived a long life, but it doesn't change the devastation I will feel when she goes, whether it is today or 3 years from now.

Well, Looky There...I'm One Lucky Duck!

Thanks to Lori at "Eggs in a Basket" for honoring me with my first award within the infertility blogosphere. I did not bring my acceptance speech with me, but let me just say a hearty THANK YOU and...

I honor Lori over at "Losses and Gains" because she writes every single thing I want to say about losing boy/girl twins at 23 weeks. And, because she's just so dang wise.

I also honor Akeeyu at "herveryown" because she is the best writer I know (or know in my computer) and each day I hope and pray I turn on my computer and find a new post to keep me laughing hysterically.

And, finally, I honor Ann at "The Unlucky 20 Percent" because she just lost a sweet baby boy at 20 weeks. I know the unbearable pain.

Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Tonka trucks, rocks, crawdads, bikes from dawn to dusk, Hot Wheels, constellations, mud, playing army, GI Joe parachute men, spending hours in the creek, climbing and jumping out of trees, digging for treasures.

I'm certain our little girl will love all this and more...just like her mother.

If I Had A Mannequin Head, I'd Name Her Frankie

And I'd give her some serious streaks of red in her hair. Skunk like. And she would like it. Because that's what you do with a mannequin head. I'd tuck her under my arm and carry her around with me, hair flowing in the wind, red streaks causing envy everywhere.

That's what you do at the Paul Mitchell Beauty School. And, that's where my brave (and broke) butt went to get my hair trimmed. $15 and 2 hours later, I was out the door. But, not before learning many important things.

Did you know that alpha hydroxy acids are derived from fruit and milk sugars? Did you know that you must be the bravest soul possible to let a fellow student cut(!) and color(!!) your own hair. And I mean cut into super freak styles? Call me silly, but I believe that is what Frankie is for. Did you know that it is possible to have a hair supervisor giving advice to young, impressionable "future professionals" as their shirts boldly announced with a hair style that rivals Dog, The Bounty Hunter? For reals.

My sweet little student was 3 months into her schooling and had an adversion to hair..."Oh! There's hair everywhere!" She sectioned my hair into 10 (I counted.) sections and painstakingly cut each strand of hair with careful precision. At one point I almost snatched the scissors away and said, "For the love of Pete! Let me cut it Granny Moses!" But, I refrained and sat, magazineless, watching her every move. And every move of Death's Door Dora, the student sitting in the chair next to me watching the whole time. She was quite a ray of sparkles as she stared me down, scowl in tow. I brushed her off until hunger took over and I almost asked her if she wanted a piece of the hungry pregnant girl.

Honestly, she did a great job and even caused me to say a little "I will be better with my hair" mantra that lasted just for the day. I will return there. And, I might even have my own little mannequin head tucked under my arm just to pass the time.

Just Frankie and me.

November Resolutions

1. Start my iPod books again.
2. Buy a prenatal yoga tape before I die from missing my beloved Body Flow class.
3. Be thankful for every second of this pregnancy.
4. Pray harder, longer, more frequently.
5. BREATHE.

Who's That Girl?

No wedding is complete without wedding pictures...even if they make it to an album three and a half years later. Since I'm home bound, I thought I would do just that, which led me to a string of pictures of My Babe and me from the last six years we've been together. Pictures of camping, rock climbing, skiing, and bike riding. We've been sky diving, canoeing, hiking, and many more things I've always dreamed of doing. I look back and see a girl that resembles me, but not the me I know now. In my mind, I'm still that girl. The girl that used to have a slight bit of muscle tone, skinnier face, long hair with highlights, able (and willing) to wear tank tops without embarrassment, and open to trying anything (almost).

But, the last two and a half years have taken that away. I've spent those years gestating...with no end result. No product. Just a few short hours with two precious babies in my arms, a belly that never went away, and a box of memories that aren't enough to last. I feel robbed of the girl I used to be from my body, to my brain, to my heart. Those that know me and have been around me may or may not agree, but to me it is so obvious, especially after seeing those pictures. Especially when I can't physically do the things we used to do. And, while, it may be temporary, by the time I give birth, I will have spent three years of my life unable to do the things I enjoy due to trying to conceive, pregnancy, and pregnancy loss after loss.

I want the old me back. I want to be stupid and naive about pregnancy and the end result. I want to not have to think about my angel babies on a second to second basis. I want to push the play button since my life has been on hold for so long. I want to move on. I want to be the girl in the pictures again. The girl with the smile that wasn't covering the heartache. I want to find that girl again. If you see her, send her home to me.

Boo!

One can only painstakingly open the door, greet the cuties with a smile, and comment on their costumes so many times without going stark raving mad. I always vowed I would never put my infant child into a silly costume on Halloween. I've changed my mind. If I am fortunate enough to have a 5 month old child in my arms next Halloween, that kid will be in a hot dog costume. I'll be so happy to have a little trick or treater of my own, that we'll attend every harvest festival, pumpkin patch hoedown, and carnival in town. So what that the baby will sleep through it all.

So, here's to one more Halloween, one more Thanksgiving, one more Christmas, and one more Easter without a little hot dog of my own. And, while it scares me that I'm being so optimistic and (once again) naive, I definitely still have my moments of panic. And, I think my panic will increase as we approach 23 weeks. For now, things are progressing surprisingly well. The cerclage was a piece of cake, I'm resting comfortably, and I only have one more Halloween to endure alone.

Sew 'Er Up Tight, Doc

Bon-bons anyone?

I will gladly share as I sit on my patootie for the next 2 weeks after the cerclage tomorrow. That is, barring I make it to the surgery alive since I cannot eat after midnight. I requested triple knots in the cerclage string, and Dr. B. said he would quadruple it just for me. I really don't care if he performs a colorful 4th grade weaving project down there...whatever it takes. Just let this work.

My Give a Damn's Busted

As I sit in my bed, clothed in my robe and underwear (because it's actually 40 degrees in Texas and I'm cold), eating Natural White Cheese Cheeto Cheese Puffs, I realize that I officially do not care. I.Do.Not.Care.

I do not care that mom and I ate a full meal at 4:30pm after the appt. with Dr. B., and on the way home, at 5:30 pm, I went to Bill Miller's BBQ and ordered another full meal complete with 2 orders of hash browns, extra sauce, AND brownies.

I do not care that my body is going into complete and udder What The Hell Kind of Crap Are You Eating Now? mode. If it sounds good, I eat it, regardless of whether I would ever let it touch my mouth on a non-pregnant day.

I do not care that I have zero desire to walk down the stairs and out into the cold garage to get two rolls of toilet paper to replace the two empty rolls upstairs. In fact, my give a damn is so busted that I have a pee plan sans toilet paper in place for this evening.

I do not care that crap is stacked up on my side of the bed and cracker crumbs on the floor will soon be attracting a full blown platoon of ants.

I do not care that my afternoons, evenings, and nights involve a path from my garage directly to my bed, not to be traveled again until morning.

I do not care that my teeth are not being brushed for 2 minutes morning and night. A toothbrush and toothpaste are a sure fire combo for gagging and possibly puking. So, bring on the halitosis and funk.

And I certainly do not care that I am about to tell kindergarten parents that I am going to be out for 2 weeks after the cerclage. In fact, I welcome it. Look forward to it. Let's get the show on the road.

Frogger is measuring beautifully, the nuchal translucency test came back great, and things are looking brighter. We're on for the cerclage next week. Put me out, sew me shut and let's move forward, because my give a damn's busted.

Oh Yeah...And One More

Idiot HR Person (3 days after delivering): "And how long do you plan to take off?"
Me: "I get six weeks."
Idiot HR Person: "Well...that was before. I think the circumstances have changed now."
Me (almost coming across the table to rip her head off): "My doctor's paperwork said I get six weeks. I just delivered 2 babies that did not live."

Conversations That Need To Get OUT of My Head

Dr.V: "There's one heartbeat...and there's the other."
Me: "Will I be able to carry twins considering I am so small?"
Dr.V: "You can, but it's going to be difficult."


Butthead Parent 1: "I just heard a nasty rumor about you. Is it true?"
Me: "I don't know. Lots of rumors go on around here. What is it?"
Butthead Parent 1: "I just heard a rumor that you are having twins."
Me: "Yep, that's true - we're very excited!"
Butthead Parent 1: "Well, that's all fine and great, but what about our kids?"


Butthead Parent 2: "________'s mother is DEVASTATED that you are pregnant. She has just cried and cried. Who is going to teach the kids?"
Me: "I'll have a long term sub. It will be just fine."
Butthead Parent 2 (walking off while talking): "Well, she is just devastated."


Me: "Everytime I get up, I feel like a foot or a hand is going to pop out."
Dr. Jerk: "Hmmm...that's interesting. I've never heard of that."


Me: "I wake up at 6am. By 9am, I am hunched over and holding myself because the pressure is so intense."
Dr. Jerk: "Hmmm...I just can't figure out why. Maybe you should just take it easy and sit during the day."
Me: "I am a kindergarten teacher. I do not sit down. I am on my feet 98% of the day. If I need to be sitting, then I need to quit working."
Dr. Jerk: "Well, we don't want you to quit working. Bedrest isn't a good idea all the time."


Me: "I am hurting. My back hurts, and the pressure is very bad."
Dr. Jerk: "Pregnancy is very tough - especially with twins. Hang in there."
Me (crying): "I don't know how this is supposed to feel, but I don't feel good."
Dr. Jerk: "Unfortunately, since you are so little, you've gone from 0-9 months is just 4 months. Just keep resting."


Me: "I feel awful and I can barely walk without holding myself."
Dr. Jerk: "What do you want me to do, MKV?"
Me: "I need to be taken off work or at least work half days."
Dr. Jerk: "Well, we don't like to take you off work unless it is really necessary."
Me: "Do you think it is necessary considering the pressure?"
Dr. Jerk: "What do you want me to do, MKV?"
Me: "I don't know. I guess put me on half days because I cannot make it through a full day of work. I'm telling you, I do not sit down at work."
Dr. Jerk: "If you think that will help."


Butthead Parent 3: "So, are you sure you are going home after your half day?"
Me: "Yes, I am. I can barely walk by 11:30am when the half day is over."
Butthead Parent 3: "Well, I haven't seen your car in the driveway in the afternoons."
Me: "I park in the garage."


Me: "How many hours per day should I spend in bed?"
Dr. Jerk: "There are no restrictions."
Me: "So, it's okay to do laundry, dishes, go upstairs, etc.?"
Dr. Jerk: "There are no restrictions. In fact, I want you up and doing."


Me: "What about a cerclage to sew my cervix up?"
Dr. Jerk: "You are not a candidate for a cerclage."


Dr. Jerk (at our 20 week appt.): "Wow! You're having twins?!? I have twins too."
Me: "What do you think about the cervical length?"
Dr. Jerk (finally picking up my paperwork from the 20 week sono): "Oh, what was it?"
Me: "It was measuring at a 2.8.'
Dr. Jerk: "Oh, that's fine. Anything below 2.5 is cause for concern."
Me: "Well, isn't that close?"
Dr. Jerk: "It should be fine. Just come back in one month and we'll recheck."
Me (crying): "I don't think I can wait a month. Is there any way I can come back in two weeks."
Dr. Jerk: "Well, we're just going to listen to the heartbeat. That's all."


Dr. P (who checked us into the hospital two weeks later): "What we have here is an incompetent cervix. There were signs of this at your 20 week appointment. We have to check you into the hospital."
Me (crying from relief, naively thinking I am finally going to be monitored closely): "Well, good. I knew this was going to happen. Now I can make it to at least 28 weeks."
Dr. P: "You will not make it to 28 weeks. You will deliver in a few days."

Mommy of Four Angels

On this day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, I will never forget you my sweet babies...from the ones I held in my arms to the ones I held in my heart. And will continue to hold forever.

MKV to Pregnancy: Really...Let's Just Be Friends

10 Weeks Pregnant + Field Day with Kindergarten = Near Death

All Is Well In Frog Land

The antibiotics have officially kicked in, Zofran is back in my system, My Babe is in the process of making me a grilled cheese sandwich cut neatly into 4 triangles, and Frogger is an official overachiever, measuring a few days ahead of schedule. I could not ask for more.

Sending Out An SOS

...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---... ...---...

That's Morse Code for, "HELP! GET ME OUT OF THIS BODY!"

I'm throwing in the towel. I give up. I'm sick of being sick. Last week I had a major puke fest, complete with broken blood vessels in my face from the violent heaving and now I'm sick, with fever and a sore throat. AGAIN. I missed work AGAIN. We've had 30 days of school and I have officially missed 5 of those days. I GIVE UP.

The Kindergarten Hell Holes

No, not the classrooms as you might think...but the bathrooms.

Have you ever smelled toilets that 40 five year old girls and 40 five year old boys use? It ain't pretty, friends. And, it isn't making for an easy time when I must visit this place frequently throughout the day. It's not even the unflushed poop that I see on a daily basis, or the lovely findings on the toilet seat. It's the smell of urine. I must say that my girls need to drink some serious water to dilute their pee because it smells BAD. I hold my breath as I am walking through the hallway that connects my classroom to D's room, right past the nasty little pots. Going into the bathroom is worse, of course. I keep my nose covered with my shirt, but then sometimes my own body smell (on non-pregnant days when I have energy to care, I smell like flowers) starts getting to me and I have to uncover quickly. I just can't win, as going down the hallway and around the corner really isn't an option as frequently as I must go. Lots can happen in a unsupervised and even semi-supervised kindergarten classroom in 2 minutes. Heck, lots can happen in a completely supervised kindergarten classroom in 2 minutes. Lots, I tell you.

Alas, only 2 more days of the Kindergarten Hell Hole for this week.

At This Point, I Don't Care If I Give Birth To A Frog

As long as I can bring it home, wrap it in a blanket, and stick it in a crib, I'll take it. A frog is exactly what the baby looked like today. Frogger is still alive, measuring ahead of schedule, heart was beating away, and I am quite relieved.

After an emergency "I Have To Eat Right NOW" trip to McDonald's (big fat yuck), we arrive at Dr. B's office. The nurse took my heart rate at 110 bpm confirming my extreme fear and apprehension for just being there. We've never had good luck at Dr. B's until now. Unexpectedly, I was all emotional in the room before the sonographer walked in, and even after she gave us the good news and left. My fears were not calmed until Dr. B, in all his cocky glory, came in. Normally we do NOT deal with doctors that have a cocky presence such as his, but this time I could care less. He can be cocky all he wants as long as he gives me a real live, take home baby. So, we will return to him on the 11th for a "peace of mind" check that I requested (yeah, me!) after he originally said he would see us in 3 weeks. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but he will also see us on the 23rd for the cerclage consultation. For now, I'm keeping all my crossables crossed that Frogger makes it out alive.

October Resolutions

I missed September, but only because I felt like dog and school was kicking my butt.

1. Think positively.
2. Walk Peanut a little after school instead of heading directly for the bed.
3. Swim once a week.
4. Rely on prayer throughout the day. I'm good about it going to sleep, waking up, and during the "moment of silence" at work, but that's about it.
5. Continue on the "no" path when it comes to extra responsibilities at work.
6. Advocate for the care I feel I need, even when I am feeling shy, defeated, unsure, like a wimp, etc.
6. Remain thankful for the little human I am busy growing.

Okay...Really, I Can't Complain

This is the best pregnancy I've had to date. Although I certainly do not feel even close to 100%, I can actually eat. Nothing really sounds good, but at least I can eat and that makes me one happy camper, considering I am a big eater. I still want to throw up but it isn't right there in my throat potentially causing me to spontaneously vomit at any given moment. This is mainly in part to the constant stream of nausea medication I've kept in my body. I've learned that when I don't take it on weekends (simply to save the pills since they cost an arm and a leg per pill) that is when I throw up. Nights are not very good either, but I'll take that to feeling badly all the time. Of course this stream of good luck makes me wonder in the back of my mind if the baby is still alive. I haven't had an ultrasound in almost two weeks, so you just never know. This isn't consuming my mind, but I am confident I will feel this anxiety daily.

Which brings me to another reason I cannot complain. I'm sick to read of a fellow blogger's latest loss...her 7th to be exact. Her repeated second trimester loss has me waking in the middle of the night, stopping in the middle of the day, wondering what she is doing. Knowing the physical things her body is going through right this minute. Knowing that her body has no idea she doesn't have a baby to hold. Knowing the devastation and the tears that just won't stop. I do not know her, have no idea what she looks like, and will never meet her, but I hurt for her. Unfair doesn't even begin to describe the situation.

It Was The Banana Family

I got rid of the high fever after 5 days, only to be blindsided by "morning" (24/7) sickness that very day. The last couple of weeks have been tough. My kindergarten children no longer look at me funny as I gag over the trash can several times per day. No telling what they say to their parents about it, but it seems that they view it as normal now. I can no longer bring home food from a restaurant without all four windows rolled down and my head sticking out. Even then I might scream at any moment, "Throw the food the hell out of the window!"

I had 3 good days last week. I am convinced it was the family of bananas my mom bought for me. I should've cloned the damn things since one of my children's parents works in a lab where they clone cows (serious business). For 3 glorious days I ate a banana before getting out of bed along with those little rectangle Club crackers. Those were days that I could actually smile, laugh, and only want to half-puke all day long. But, that family of bananas is long gone and it seems that no others can take their place. In fact, if a banana comes within 1 foot of my mouth, I might hurl. And don't bring me a Club cracker either unless you want to get smacked down.

Speaking of hurling...ever puked up trail mix? I highly do not recommend it. That's been my day today.

If it seems like I'm whining...I am. In fact, I've earned that considering this is my fourth pregnancy with no take home baby and each time I've been equally as sick. Being sick does NOT mean this pregnancy is healthy. It just means I have damn good hormones that like to make themselves heard.

However, I am thankful. I am thankful to God for the opportunity again. I am thankful that everything looked great at our 7 week sonogram. I am thankful that I have THE BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD, and I am thankful that maybe, just maybe this could be the one.

Hey Fool (self): It's No Longer Allergies When...

1. The sight, sound, taste, feeling of water makes my skin crawl.
2. I have on a sweatshirt, long pajama pants, and the A/C up to 80 degrees in August.
3. Chills.
4. Sweat.
5. A throat so sore I am trying not to swallow and when I do, I wince.
6. Hot.
7. Cold.
8. Fever of 102 degrees.
9. Aches.
10. Pains.
11. Stiff neck.
12. Gatorade sounds good.
13. The couch becomes the infirmary.
14. Anything touching my skin hurts.
15. I'm actually okay with watching all 2 hours of "VH1's Top 40 Greatest Pranks."

I've Taken A Second Job

My first job I've had for 9 years. It's the brain engineer job where I take care of everyone else's children. I teach them to read, write, think critically, be respectful, to love friends, laugh, and be inquisitive. This is the job that sucks the life out of me most days, but pays in unseen rewards beyond measure. This is the job that I'm actually pretty good at, but tend to take too seriously (especially the last few days). This job has run my life for 9 years.

My newest job is much more important. It will take precedence over my first job. It will take more energy and strength than I have some days. It will require a great deal of rest, faith, healthy choices, and positive thinking. It will be all consuming, but will pay better than any other job on earth. This job will guide my thinking, my actions, and my words. This job requires me to put everything and everyone else on the back burner. And although I know too well that this job involves a great deal of risk, I remain confident that this job will lead me to a place I've been praying for.


My new job is Pregnancy #4 and I'm excited but scared to death.

Goodbye Grandpa

Today you went to Heaven and I couldn't be happier for you. I know you have been desperately waiting to be reunited with Grandma for years. Thank you for taking me in as your own. I will forever wear Grandma's ring with honor.

Uh...What Just Happened?

This whole "Back to School" thing is really cramping my style. My body is in a perpetual state of shock and I'm sick of hitting the sack at 11:30pm or later, only to wake up all bright eyed, bushy tailed, and rather ticked at 3am. For some odd reason, I feel the need to write down these random thoughts that plague my mind at 3am. In pitch darkness, I write profound things like, "fish" and "straw" on a notepad. Now, the "fish" part is understandable because I really will forget to take the fish out of the freezer unless I write it down. However, the "straw" part is just silly as I am convinced...did I mention at 3am?...that I need a straw for my morning smoothie to decrease the risk of blueberry and strawberry seeds embarassingly lodging themselves between my teeth. Really? Who does that? Alas, time marches on, my imprisonment school officially begins Monday, and things will begin to "settle" down. Until then, I will continue to tend to my wounds and battle scars each night (read: paper cuts) and just hope for the best.

Oh, and to the lady that found this site by searching "must get pregnant or go insane", I say...amen.

Ugh...

My head is spinning and it aches. I feel dizzy. My neck aches. My belly feels like it might blow at any given moment.

We can either chalk this up to nasty Clomid and the two (yes, I said two!) big follicles I currently have. Or, we can say it is a nasty case of the I Don't Want To Go Back To Work Tomorrows.

Either way, I feel like a dog.

The Bathroom Tells Me So

I don't normally find luck in a bathroom, but yesterday was a little different. I reach for the toilet paper and there, sitting upon the holder, was a nice little piece of paper. A fortune to be exact. And this is what it said...

You will have a beautiful family.

Girl's Beach Weekend

August Resolutions

1. I will remain calm despite adversity.
2. I will bite my tongue when necessary.
3. I will overcome fear and say things that are necessary.
4. I will be productive in the last days before school starts.
5. I will draw lines where lines should have been drawn long ago.
6. I will stop allowing myself to be bullied and brought down.
7. I will spend time relaxing and not feel guilty.
8. I will help others as much as I have been helped in the past.
9. I will be open to change.
10. I will accept new friends with open arms.