"Now that it's raining more than ever, Know that we'll still have each other, You can stand under my umbrella, You can stand under my umbrella..."

("Umbrella" by Rihanna).

Long post today, sorry!

When it rains, it pours. This past week has really sucked.

Let's start with a little background: my Dad has been best friends with this one guy since high school, so I've known him my whole life. Naturally, I've known his children my whole life, too. One of his daughters is two years older than me, and we've stayed in touch through the years. She married a Seaman, I was in her wedding. I married The Hubs, she was in mine.

She got pregnant (with her 4th son) the summer before The Hubs and I got married, and she called me up in a panic. She was so scared that I was going to be mad at her for being pregnant during the wedding, and she wanted to make sure I wasn't going to freak out or kick her out of the wedding or anything. Of course, I told her I didn't care if she was pregnant and that I wasn't worried one bit about the dresses or any part of it. Here we are the day of my wedding. Me, The Navy Wife, and baby Tyler at about four months along, chillin' in her belly:

Fast forward almost four months to the day, and The Hubs and I are meandering around Kohl's on Valentine's night. My phone rings, and it's my dad.

"Hey Dad. What's up?"
"Not much, I've got some bad news."
"Okay, what happened?"
"(The Navy Wife) lost her baby."

She was less than five weeks from her due date. She had a regular doctor's appointment on Monday, and everything was fine. Saturday morning she woke up, and knew something was wrong. She told me later that she just felt like something had happened. Mother's intuition absolutely amazes me.

She went to the doctor, they did an ultrasound, and discovered that the baby was dying. Even if they had done an emergency c-section, it would have been to late. They enduced her labor later that night, and she had to give birth to her fourth son knowing he was already gone. That's the part that gets me every time I think about it. I just can't imagine how hard that must have been for her.

We found out on Thursday that Tyler's funeral service was going to be Friday in Chicago, so I called The Hubs at work, and told him we had to go.

By 4:26 am on Friday morning, I was already showered and dressed. We were on the road at 5:13. We saw the sun rise somewhere along I-70 in Indiana:

And we got to Chicago with about an hour to spare before the viewing. You know, no matter how prepared you think you are, really, you're never ready to handle a baby's funeral. A Navy Chaplain presided over the service, and then we caravan-ed to the cemetery. Because The Navy Wife's husband is still on active duty, and could be sent anywhere in the country or the world, they decided to have Tyler's body cremated. This way, they can take him with them wherever they end up. At the cemetary mausoleum, The Navy Wife placed his urn into a small glass display case along with a small blanket and a plaque with his name, and a single date: 02/14/09. It was one of the saddest experiences of my life.

After spending some time with the family at their home, we left for our return trip. The second 7 hour drive that day. We got home and in bed a little after 1 am, twenty hours after we left the house to start the trip. It was totally worth it, and I would do it again in a heart beat.

So that was downpour number 1 last week. Downpour number 2? The BFF found out she has a fibroid tumor the size of an orange making a home for itself in her uterus. She's been having rough periods, bad cramps, and the occasional fainting spell for years now, so this explains a lot. She's (obviously) devastated because the only "cure" for fibroids is a hysterectomy, and she plans on having kids some day. She's only 26, dude! She shouldn't have to be dealing with that reality. But she is. And she's finding her own way to deal with it - namely through humor. The tumor now has a name - it's Tulula. We decided (on girls' night, no less) that if it ever popped out of her stomach like in the Alien movie, we hoped it would be more like Spaceballs...

"Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaaaaaaaaaal..." Yes, disgusting, I know, but funny. And I'm up for whatever helps her through it.

So now, she's focusing her energy on finding any info she can on possible solutions other than a hysterectomy. She'll beat this. I know she will. In the meantime, she can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella.

And finally, the third downpour: my cousin, who had a very difficult time getting pregnant, and suffered one previous miscarriage, had her baby last week. We were concerned because the little girl (Katie!) had to stay in the hospital for jaundice and have some EKGs done, but she got to go home with Mommy and Daddy this weekend! Yay! So there's one reproductive downpour with a rainbow at the end.

So rather than leave you all stunned and sad after reading this post, I'll make a possibly futile attempt at the light-hearted topics. The good parts of my weekend/life: Saturday night Girls' Night with The BFF and Tonja. (I just realized that Tonja is one of the only people on this blog that I don't have a pseudonym for. I'll have to work on that. For now, she's Tonja.) We ate at O'Charley's again (a girls' night favorite) and then went to see the requisite girls' night chick flick:

Now, I own the series of books. I like them. But somehow, I came away from this movie annoyed, and angry, and depressed. So annoyed, in fact, that I don't even care if you have plans to see it, I'm going to ruin the plot and ending for you. (Fair warning). Cliffs Notes version: She lives in NY, shops a lot, and runs up $16,000 worth of credit card bills on Gucci and Prada and Burberry. She gets hounded by a mean old collections agent, sells all her Gucci and Prada and Burberry, and magically pays the collections agent off in pennies.

Here's the thing. I've mentioned here before that one of my goals in life is to get out of debt, or to at least get it under manageable control. I'm doing it, and I'm proud. But there have been times in my life that I have been hounded by collections agencies. Everything the collections agent does in this movie is ILLEGAL in real life. He comes to her house, he hounds her for the money while she's live on TV, he tells other agents to tell debtors he will take everything they have away from them, humiliate them, harrass them, send them to jail, etc. All of which are downright illegal.

1. I'm annoyed that the movie's producers allowed such blatant falseties to be shown. It ruined the believability and enjoyment for me since I know that could never really happen.
2. I'm annoyed because those people in the world who aren't aware of their rights as a debtor will walk away from that movie thinking that the people who are hounding them can do the same things.

The other thing that absolutely pisses me off about this movie: she solves her problem by magically selling off the $16,000 in fancy-pants clothing and accessories in her closet. Wow! That was easy! Are you kidding me?!?! Name one person in America who has creditors breathing down her back who can just basically twiddle her nose and solve her problem Bewitched style? For those of us who are struggling to meet their responsibilities, she being able to fix it with no struggle whatsoever? It's a slap in the face.

Yes, I know the movie is a chick flick. Yes, I know it's supposed to be unbelievable, lighthearted, and you are supposed to fix every problem in less than two hours. It just struck a nerve. The movie wasn't a total loss, though. There are a couple of absolutely hilarious scenes - the dancing scene for one. Cracked. Me. Up.

So in case you're following along, here's a Girls' Night Movie Recap:

Bride Wars: B+

He's Just Not That Into You: A-

Confessions of a Shopaholic: C -

That's just one girl's opinion, though.

Oh, and you didn't think I'd write a ridiculously long post without mentioning the diet, did you? It was, after all, the reason I started this blog, even though it has morphed into something else lately.

I lost .2 pounds, bringing me in at 255.4 for the week. I'm seriously amazed, since horrible news and an impromptu trip to Chicago left much to be desired on the diet front. It is what it is. I just need to get back on that freaking treadmill and get back on track. I'm having a really hard time motivating myself to do that. Help?

Here's hoping your week is sunny and umbrella-free!