a lifetime of Halloweens: 2024 edition.

(Editor's note: I originally wrote this just before Halloween 2015. However, as you know, time marches on... and Halloweens keep coming. So I have been adding to this post each year so as not to miss a Halloween. That means we, once again, get to revisit a lifetime of costumes. I can hardly wait.)

YOU GUYS IT'S FINALLY HALLOWEEN.

I am excited: per usual. I have had my costume picked out since last Halloween.

My costume is not just any costume. It kicks ass, and I can't wait to show it to you. However, there is a definite downside to having such an awesome costume. After this Halloween, I can NEVER WEAR IT FOR HALLOWEEN AGAIN.

Because I have a policy.

I cannot be the same thing for Halloween twice.

"But wait!" you say. "What about the zombies, huh? YOU ARE LYING!"

But no! I dress up as a zombie for specific zombie-themed events: not for Halloween itself. Doesn't count. It's the zombie clause in my self-imposed Halloween contract. (Also, I've never been the SAME zombie, so there's that). Same goes for any re-wearing of costumes (as you will soon see in 2018): I'm not wearing the old costume for Halloween ITSELF, so it doesn't count.

I must have decided on my no-repeats Halloween rule at a pretty young age: I have pictures going back to 1988, and you won't find any duplicates (with the special exception of Halloween theme parties that do not fall on Halloween itself). You will, however, find some darn cute pictures of me as a very excited child. 

I wish I had pictures of every Halloween, but I don't. I don't know what I was for Halloween 1987 - but I was a mere six months old and I am pretty sure that my parents dressed me up in the little skeleton costume you'll see on my sister in 1991 and my brother in 1993. 1992 is also missing, as are 1999 - 2001. While I am unsure about 1992, 1999 - 2001 was a dark time in my life... as I was deemed too old for trick-or-treating. I decided to forgo costumes those years, but I eventually realized that just because you're too old to trick-or-treat does NOT mean you're too old to dress up for Halloween. You're NEVER too old to dress up for Halloween, dammit. The only other year missing is 2009, but that was the year that I was in New Orleans. I was so excited to spend Halloween in New Orleans, but alas, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I didn't know anyone well enough to go out Halloweening with them, and even if I did, I didn't have enough money for a costume or drinks at the bar. I spent that Halloween curled up on my air mattress, watching Halloween episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and sad-eating Halloween candy from my landlady.

On the bright side? Pretty much every Halloween going forward is guaranteed to be better than that one.

So here we go: a pictorial history of Calla's Halloweens!

1988
Superman

I came across this picture in May when I was digging through a box of ancient photos in search of something embarrassing to post for Mother's Day. (You mean you DON'T share ridiculous photos of your mother from the 1980s on Mother's Day? Shame on you.) I was overjoyed, as 1988 had been one of my mysterious gap years. You have no idea how happy finding this picture made me.

1989
Mickey Mouse

Is this or is this not the cutest damn Mickey Mouse you've ever seen? I was about two-and-a-half, and Halloween was already my favorite holiday. Trick-or-treating in the country always meant that you'd come away with an enormous haul. We just had to hop in the minivan and drive from house to house. As not many trick-or-treaters make it out into the sticks where we lived, any house you went to would reward you with handfuls of candy. Or multiple full-sized candy bars. Or twelve-packs of pop. Country trick-or-treating is the best.

1990
pumpkin

My pumpkin makeup is a little bit hilarious. I'm not sure which parent was responsible for this, but I would like to know why exactly I have a red mouth instead of a black one. The jack o' lantern face on my sweatshirt has a black mouth - why not me? Am I a flesh-eating jack o' lantern? Or the child of artistically challenged parents? Let's go with that.

1991
witch

You may have noticed that all of my costumes involve long sleeves. Indeed, I live in the Midwest, so many of my Halloween costumes were planned around sweatshirts and winter coats. That's why I look so bulky: under my black sweatshirt was probably another sweatshirt. I believe 1991 was a particularly snowy Halloween, but there's no way that I wasn't going out trick-or-treating.

1993
princess

This princess dress came from a huge bin of my mom's old clothes that had been deemed "for dress-up." I played dress-up ALL the damn time, and it was a delight for me to be able to wear this out in public. To top it off, Mom made me glitter shoes: old dress shoes coated in glue and dipped in multi-colored glitter. They were the BEST.

1994
dog

I don't know where this costume came from, but I do remember that it was supposed to be a bunny suit. It more or less a white onesie and had big ears sticking straight up. One of Mom's coworkers sewed spots on it, and presto! I was a dalmatian. However, even though I was clearly wearing a dog collar, I was mistaken for a cow for all of Halloween day.

1995
cheerleader

1995 must've been a particularly warm Halloween, hence the bare legs. Though I was only eight in 1995, I feel as though my sarcasm was really starting to develop: being a cheerleader for Halloween was the scariest thing I could think of.

1996
cat

Another cold Halloween, as our costumes were comprised mainly of different-colored sweatshirts. My cat ears are a little droopy, but I felt (at the time) like the stuffed mouse really brought the costume together. Please, though, direct your attention to my brother Mitch, who (at age three) is way too delighted to be Satan.

1997
Cruella de Vil

Ah, the year I was Cruella de Vil. Mom (for reasons still unknown) had this old rabbit-fur coat in the back of her closet, and I commandeered it for Halloween that year. My cousin Ethan was a part of the theatre department at SDSU, so he was able to procure (and spray-paint) the wig for me. Another cold-weather costume, but this one was a win. 

1998
gypsy/just-rolled-out-of-bed girl

The first year of the double Halloween costume. I dug through the old dress-up box and was a gypsy for the school Halloween parade. (This was around the time Disney released The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I totally wished I could be Esmeralda.) I came home in my gypsy outfit, all ready to trick-or-treat, and I was informed that it was too cold to wear it. I would have to find something else. I half-heartedly threw together my "person in pajamas" costume, which is 100% lame. Had I realized that it would be my last year as a trick-or-treater, I'd like to think that I would've come up with something better. We'll never know. (Looking back at this in 2018, I realize now that cultural appropriation is not ok, and I regret my costume choice. However, as an 11-year-old, I had no idea what I was doing. Please forgive me.)

2002
Medieval vampire?

Ok, so I'm not 100% sure what I billed my costume as this year. I do know that it involved this dress that I bought at Goodwill, a vampire cape from KMart, and skeleton earrings. Medieval vampire, perhaps? Who knows.

2003
Count von Disco Bono

Another off-year in my Halloween history. This is the cape that I bought with my friend Allison the year before. The cape itself is pretty awesome - it came from Kmart in Brookings before it closed, and I still have the cape to this day. I also have the skeleton earrings in this picture, which you can see if you look very closely. Anyway, I wanted to dress up for Halloween but was fresh out of ideas, so this is what I got. I called myself Count von Disco Bono: vampire cape + Bono sunglasses + pink plaid bellbottoms. A terrible costume, but a costume nonetheless.

2004
reject Charlie's Angel/beat up band kid/ generic sock hopper

Halloween of my senior year of high school was AWESOME. That was the year our high school football team made it to the state playoffs (and won). Halloween was right around said big game, so all of Halloween (which was on a Sunday, so we celebrated early at school) was one big pep rally day. There were games and snacks and absolutely no productivity whatsoever. My outfit was a red one-piece bell-bottomed monstrosity that I got at Goodwill, plus some go-go boots and a shiny scarf. I was a reject Charlie's Angel. I had to work at the Dairy Mart  that evening, and there was no way that I was doing so in a polyester jumpsuit. I changed into a dress and saddle shoes and was a generic sock-hopper. On Halloween itself, Bob and I dressed up as beat-up band kids and Meagan dressed up as our band director... and we went trick-or-treating at his house. I recall that he and his wife thought we were hilarious. Or hilariously lame. Either way.

2005
band kid

(Editor's note: this qualifies as a different costume than the previous year because a.) I was a beat up band kid in 2004 and just a regular one in 2005, and b.) the beat up band kid costume was not my main costume: an honor I'd give to my reject Charlie's Angel jumpsuit.) 

Yes, friends: this was the first year of the triple costume. Much to my great pleasure, I found all sorts of people at college who loved to dress up at Halloween. I stole adopted my old band uniform - after all, the school had just gotten new ones and was systematically burning/donating/destroying the old uniforms, so I figured that I might as well give mine the loving home it deserved. Anyway, it was the perfect Midwestern costume - made of wool = super warm. And how about that hat? If only I'd had the red plume that goes with it. 

2006
zombie I/sailor-ish/opposite

The triple costume returns! My friend Sara and I attended UMM's first Zombie Prom: though we look like undead pandas, believe me when I say that we were zombies. Halloween was on a Tuesday that year, so we also needed costumes for the preceding weekend: hence my sailor outfit. It's difficult to see in this picture, but my top is an actual wool sailing uniform that I picked up at an antique store. Points for authenticity. Finally, Sara and I had costumes for Halloween itself: we went as opposites. It's the only time that I've ever dressed as a concept for Halloween, and it was a very liberal arts college thing to do. I totally loved it and still think we were a little bit brilliant.

2007
Croc

One of my all-time favourite costumes: the year of the Croc. Ever since I first saw those rubbery horrors, I have cursed their existence. Sara had a pair of pink Crocs that she so graciously let me borrow for this costume. This was the year that Halloween was on a Wednesday, and Wednesday nights were the nights that both Sara (the news editor) and I (the arts and entertainment editor) worked late at the college paper. We put in extra hours on Monday and Tuesday of that week in order to be out the door by 10pm Wednesday - instead of our usual 2am Thursday. Halloween is THAT important.

2008
Norwegian

Thanks to the leap year, Halloween landed on a Friday in 2008. Theoretically, that was great: but we poor band kids had a concert on HALLOWEEN NIGHT. And not even a fun Halloween concert... a regular concert that no one attended BECAUSE IT WAS HALLOWEEN. After the concert, we all booked it back to our houses to get into our Halloween costumes and catch up to the rest of our non-band friends. My costume is an authentic Norwegian folk costume, given to me by my authentic Norwegian grandma. And made of wool. The best Minnesotan Halloween costumes are wool-based.

2010
Lobster Telephone/skeleton vampire

 

I was living in Minneapolis in 2010, which is an all-around excellent place to spend Halloween. I had finished my tenure as an intern at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, but during my time there, I learned about all sorts of cool events that they sponsor. Example: they do this thing called Third Thursdays where, the third Thursday of each month, they keep the museum open late and have some kind of big event. On this particular Third Thursday, the MIA asked attendees to come dressed as their favorite MIA work of art. I chose Dali's Lobster Telephone because why on earth WOULDN'T you choose Lobster Telephone? That same weekend, James and I went to a performance of Psycho with the Minnesota Orchestra - the movie was playing on a screen behind the orchestra while they played the soundtrack. It was amazing. I had purchased this skeleton shirt at Walmart in college (2007? probably?). It was child-sized and glowed in the dark and I loved it. Oddly, this is not the last appearance of me in child-sized skeleton apparel.

2011
Rocky Horror fail/old-timey teacher

By 2011, I had moved to Sioux Falls and had been there for approximately one month. I wore the costume on the left to a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, hoping that it would be as amazing as the midnight showing I had seen in Minneapolis the year before. (Note: it wasn't.) My Rocky Horror outfit was not as risque as a real Rocky Horror outfit should be, but what can I say? It was cold, and I was a chicken. The costume on the left is the one I wore to work at the Department of Labor and Regulation. I was dead-broke, so I had to pretty much phone this one in. I carried a ruler and was an old-timey teacher - the dress belonged to my grandma in the 60s, who was real-life old-timey teacher. Again, points for authenticity.

2012
Batman

By Halloween 2012, I was gainfully employed at the library and was delighted to find out that nearly everyone at the library dressed up for Halloween. The library costumes were all part of a theme, and the theme that year was superheroes. That worked out perfectly for me, as my brother Mitch had given me this spectacular pair of pajamas for Christmas the year before. And may I say that James's Pee-Wee Herman costume is simply amazing? 

2013
zombie II/Duck Dynasty/Mary Poppins

    

2013 was the first year that we participated in the Zombie Walk... and I didn't really even get to be in it. The parade started at 5 o'clock, but I worked until 5... I thought I could quick run over, find James and our friend Nate, and quick get my makeup done and hop in the parade. Alas, by the time I left the library and made it to the zombie area (approx. two minutes), the parade was over. So I found James and Nate at a restaurant, and they did my makeup while we were waiting for a table. For Halloween itself, the library's theme costume was Duck Dynasty (NOT MY VOTE - I need you to know that), but my REAL costume was Mary Poppins - and this was the first (and so far, only) year James and I have had couples' costumes. 

2014
zombie III/Buster Bluth

We arrive at 2014. Mitch made it for the Zombie Walk, and I feel as though our makeup was much better than the year before. For Halloween, I convinced the library to go with a "TV characters" theme just because I had been dying to go as Buster Bluth. I repurposed the Duck Dynasty jacket from the year before and bought camo pants, a hook, an army hat, wire glasses, and a loose seal - complete with a yellow bow tie. It was the most I'd ever spent on a Halloween costume, and the hardest I'd ever worked on one. And you know what? Almost NO ONE got it. At the bar that evening, one guy yelled out "Motherboy," which was a spot-on Buster Bluth reference and totally made my night.

2015

zombie IV/Maleficent/Marla Hooch

2015 was a particularly strong year for me, and I'm really quite proud of my costumes. Of course, there was the zombie element: I went to both the Minneapolis Zombie Pub Crawl and the Sioux Falls Zombie Walk, so zombie squared. (I'm only including the one picture, though, since my zombie costume was the same.) For work, I dressed as Maleficent. Our work theme was heroes and villains, and I was only one of two villains. I got a lot of great compliments on my costume that day, and no less than three people asked to take a picture of/with me. But what really struck me as hilarious was that for every one person who commented on my costume, there were at least three more who pretended like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. On Halloween itself, I dressed as a Rockford Peach - specifically, Marla Hooch. "And then there's Marla Hooch... what a hitter!"

2016

zombie V/zombie David Bowie/Scarlett O'Hara

Here I am at the 2016 Minneapolis Zombie Pub Crawl, in my child-size skeleton onesie. We had initially planned to go as Zombie Clue (which would've been AWESOME), but two members of our group couldn't come. Instead of looking like idiots when we dressed as just part of Zombie Clue, we went with the classic random zombie horde. I found my costume the day of at Goodwill. Typical zombie behavior. In the middle is my costume for the Sioux Falls Zombie Walk: my FAVORITE event of the year. James went as Zombie Prince, and I was Zombie David Bowie. Too soon. Finally, on actual Halloween, I dressed as Scarlett O'Hara. Hoop skirt and all. 

2017

zombie dinosaur/jellyfish

 

2017 was the year I started grad school. My program is set up so that the bulk of it is online, but we do meet in person in Sioux Falls for intensive weekends from time to time. One of the intensive weekends (which are super NOT optional) landed on Zombie Walk weekend. The class went from 9am - 5pm on Friday. Zombie Walk starts promptly at 5 downtown. The second class let out, I bolted to the parking lot, where James was waiting for me with my dinosaur onesie costume, a Zombie Walk entry pin, and a bag of zombie makeup. While he drove us downtown, I did my makeup in the car. Not too bad for hastily applied car zombie makeup, I must say. For Halloween itself, I dressed up like a jellyfish: my most ambitious handmade costume to date. I had a tutu, iridescent leggings, fairy lights wound inside my tutu, glitter glued to my face, and a billion strands of glittery ribbon hot-glued to my tutu. I left a trail of glitter wherever I went (I STILL find glitter in my car), but it was AWESOME.

2018

zombie Marty McFly/Marla Hooch reprise/Beetlejuice/Winifred Sanderson

 

2018 was AWESOME. It was the first year I had QUADRUPLE costumes. 2018 was the first year James and I went as couple zombies to the Zombie Walk, and I have to say, we were a hit. And by that, I mean we got lots of high-fives. Plus, my Marty McFly vest was super warm during the cold and rainy parade, so that was an unexpected bonus. After the Zombie Walk, our friends Bob and Luke hosted a "nevertheless, she trick-or-treated" Halloween party, and you were to dress as a strong woman. So Marla Hooch made a comeback, as did Maleficent (but on James this time). This was James's first time dressing as a woman for Halloween, and he was super into how comfortable Maleficent's robe was. My Beetlejuice costume was for a Halloween-themed murder mystery event we had at the library. My goal as a child was to have a career that allowed me to dress up for Halloween, and I hit the jackpot as a librarian. I got my Winifred Sanderson costume at the Halloween store on November 1 2017- 50% off! I have wanted to be Winifred Sanderson FOREVER, and this year was finally my year. And this was the same year we had a teeny black kitten (named Ned) who could pose as my Binx.

2019

zombie Bojack Horseman/Captain Hook/traditional vampire/Willy Wonka/grim reaper

 

 

You guys. Five costumes, one Halloween season. A personal best. This was made possible by having two Halloween library programs instead of just one. 2019 saw the sixth year of me as a zombie - this year, I was zombie Bojack Horseman and James was zombie Todd. The horse head mask was impossible to see in and stunk like disgusting rubber, so this picture was the only time I actually wore it over my head. I had actual zombie makeup on under there; I promise. That same evening, we went to a Halloween party at our friends' house, at which I won the popular vote for best costume. I've never worn a fake mustache before, and let me tell you, it's not for the weak. The library had our Halloween murder mystery a few days later, and this had a vampire theme. I dug out my vampire cape from 2002, but I was a more traditional vampire - not to be confused with whatever medieval vampire I was in 2002 or Count von Disco Bono in 2003. I even had fangs. On Halloween itself, I dressed as Willy Wonka: a costume that had been on my to-do list for ages. It turns out all I had to do was buy the hat, the bowtie, and the blazer, and a costume was born. The blazer is some cheap polyester thing from Amazon, but I ended up actually liking it, so it already has a home in my business casual rotation. Then, on Halloween night, the library had a haunted pumpkin patch story time. It was AWESOME. We decorated the pumpkin patch, read scary stories, and had staff scaring children. I was the Grim Reaper, and it is my favourite library program to date.

2020

Landshark/Ursula/Brienne of Tarth

 

  

Ah yes... COVID-ween. I've been some kind of zombie every year since 2013, and COVID forced me to break my streak. Zombiewalk was canceled, and rightly so, but I couldn't help but be a little bummed out about it. We also couldn't have a Halloween program at the library. I started off as Landshark on the Friday before Halloween - that's when us working folks dress up, after all. I volunteered to work at the library on Halloween day, mostly so I could wear another costume. I am a huge fan of Disney villains, so I chose Ursula and put my costume together thanks to a mishmash of things I ordered on Amazon. Finally, it was Phineas's first Halloween, so James and I had to make it count. It was also essential to put him in awesome costumes when he's young because he doesn't have any say. So we were  Tormund Giantsbane, Brienne of Tarth, and a dire wolf. (If you're not familiar with Game of Thrones, I apologize.)

2021

bcat-cbat/snail/Buttercup

My first costume is actually a bat, but I kept getting mistaken for a cat, so here we are. My snail costume is made out of library packaging material and a metric ton of hot glue. Our big family costume this year was Buttercup, Westley, and a Rodent of Unusual Size (who would not wear his cute mouse hat).

2022

zombie Winifred Sanderson/Maleficent reprise/ Instagram/Golden Gate Bridge/Oscar the Grouch

 

I am SO delighted to be back to my five-costume rotation. The library had a zombie program a couple of weeks before Halloween, and zombie costumes were encouraged. The local brewery has bingo every month, and this month included a costume contest. I won for "scariest." (There were like five people dressed up, but a win is a win.) The "Instagram v Reality" costume was a great last-minute costume which I find more hilarious as I look at it. Every year, I have a costume I am particularly excited about, and this year, it's the Golden Gate Bridge. Some of my favorite costumes of all time have been inanimate objects. Lastly, the three of us dressed up as Sesame Street characters for trick-or-treating with Phineas. 

 

2023

Weird Al/Arthur/the Joker

I admit, I was a little nervous about what Halloween would mean for me in 2023. My original due date with Robin was October 22, so I could have still been in the hospital or he could have been in the NICU. Robin ended up being born on October 4 and needing no time in the NICU, so that worked out well. My first costume of the year was for Halloween-themed rotary bingo at the brewery, at which I won a prize for "most hilarious." On Halloween day, there was an event at Phineas's preschool where adults were welcome to dress up, so obviously, I did. As Arthur the aardvark. Finally, the family costume: Batman, Robin (ha), the Joker, and the Riddler. The first Halloween as a family of four.

2024

anglerfish/Rose/the Dude

 

Halloween Rotary Bingo now a tradition, so my friends and I showed up to bingo all dressed up... only to find we were the only ones in costume. Turns out Rotary thought it was too far away from actual Halloween (it was on October 24), so they didn't make it a costume contest. Joke was on them, because the costume table (five of us) won four times. My greatest dream as a family of four was to dress up as the Golden Girls, but Phineas was proving to be a tough sell. He wanted to be a washing machine. Then a monster. Then a SCARY washing machine. We were going to a special trick-or-treating event at our friends' farm, and I played it super cool and suggested maybe he wanted to be an old lady? To my surprise, Phineas said YES HE WOULD. Phineas thought the glasses were the funniest thing he'd ever seen, so he got to be Sophia. He also loved the purse. Both kids left their wigs alone - probably because it was cold out and the wigs were basically hats. James was Blanche because the yellow vintage dress fit him and the pink one didn't, and I thought the pink one was more Rose. That left Dorothy for Robin! Finally, I was the Dude from The Big Lebowski. Or His Dudeness, or the Duder, or El Duderino if you're not into the whole brevity thing. The number of people who knew who I was was discouraging, but I know it was a good costume, and that's what counts.

---------------------

And there's my lifetime of Halloweens! Rest assured I will continue adding to this list as the years go on, because you're never too old for Halloween. NEVER.

20 years: a love story.

Twenty years ago today, I did something that would effectively lay out the road map for my life.

Without this single event, literally (yes, LITERALLY) nothing about my life would be the same.

Twenty years ago today, I visited the University of Minnesota, Morris.

Today is Indigenous Peoples Day. Growing up in South Dakota, it was considered a holiday - no school for me and no work for my mom (a state employee).  Indigenous Peoples Day is not a federal holiday, so it's up to the state whether to call it a holiday. Minnesota certainly acknowledges the day, but does not consider it a holiday. 

That's how my mom and I ended up using our day off to make the college in the middle-of-nowhere Minnesota. It was the perfect day to visit so I didn't have to miss school (nerd alert: I hated missing school) and the college was in fully swing so I could see everything in action.

I really had no interest in UMM. I had toured Gustavus Adolphus in St Peter, and I thought it was great. (Thinking back to that, I cannot remember why I thought that except that the cafeteria seemed to have a respectable amount of options.) I was going to go there, so really, why bother?

My only college visits had been to two private schools - Gustavus and Concordia. I only toured Gustavus probably because I liked the fancy name and because my parents said we could make a weekend out of it and go to the Spam Museum as well. (Air-tight reasons.) Concordia had not impressed me because of a.) the curfew (I didn't have a curfew in high school; why should I have one on college?) and b.) no boys allowed in girls' dorms. I know what you're thinking - but it's because my high school best friend was a boy named Bob and where was he supposed to sleep when he came to visit? We had sleepovers at my house in high school, for cripes sake. (The most chaste sleepovers you can ever imagine. That dear friend Bob has been married to Luke for nearly 15 years now.)

A note about the private schools: they were/are run by churches. What I didn't realize was, at the time, church was mandatory. I was already a reluctant churchgoer (my parents made me go, UGHHH) and was looking forward to the freedom to not go. My parents almost certainly caught this piece of information. That, along with the restrictive curfew and old-fashioned girl/boy rules, would have been a major glitch in my college experience, and my parents knew it. You're supposed to go to college and have MORE freedom than you did while you lived with your parents, not LESS.

That could be why my parents really thought I should at least visit UMM. UMM was a rare breed at the time: a public liberal arts school. It checked the boxes: liberal arts, small-ish, located in a different state than my family (love you guys). This one just wasn't private. I'm not sure how they heard of UMM or what they knew about it that I didn't, but they definitely knew something.

So we went. Typical eldest daughter; I wanted to make my parents happy. 

But the joke was on me. The second I set foot on that campus, I knew I was going to college here. I have no other way to explain it than an immediate and deep sense of belonging. It was true love.

I couldn't tell you a single other thing about that day. I'm sure the admissions person was very nice, and I'm sure the student tour guide did an excellent job. All I knew is this was the place for me.

Later on, it would hit me that UMM was the complete opposite of the other places I'd visited. Not only were there no rules about boys visiting girls rooms, but the dorm floors were actually co-ed. My neighbors on either side of my freshman dorm room were dudes. No curfew. Friends/family visiting from off-campus didn't have to register anywhere. 

Best of all? People were different. 

At these other colleges, I saw a lot of blondes wearing polos and khakis. Or jeans with the sparkly butts. Basically, they looked like my high school. At UMM, I saw everyone. From fairy wings as everyday clothing to boys with long hair (GASP) to waist-length vintage leather jackets, I saw outfits and looks that I would absolutely never ever see in my hometown. 

So many of the people I saw looked different than me. It was wonderful. It was also immediately clear to me (the fairy wings were the major tip-off) you could be your unapologetic self here. That's precisely the university I wanted/needed to attend.

It was probably a mystical combination of these amazing traits that materialized to give me that feeling of home, that feeling of fuzzy goodness, the feeling of "I don't need to go any farther; where do I sign?" I don't believe in love at first sight, but this? This was love at first footstep.

As for my life trajectory, here's how that goes:

meet James -> graduate UMM with BAs in English and Art History (all you people with "you can't get a job with an English and/or Art History degree" people can shove it) -> move to Sioux Falls post-graduation because he's there-ish -> get a job in a library -> whoops I accidentally found my career -> marry James -> move to Luverne so James and I can commute from a middle ground -> start a Masters program in library science -> get the library director position in Rock County -> finish my Masters -> have Phineas -> make amazing friends in Rock County -> have Robin -> continue on in my dream job.

Without that visit to UMM - none of that.

My children owe their very lives to that institution. Honestly, my parents probably owe UMM a debt of gratitude as well. It wasn't until fairly recently I rescinded my ban on having children. I only did it because James would be the other half of the team, if if you've met that guy, you know he's made to be a dad. I have never seen my parents happier than when they are with their grandkids, and they probably wouldn't have gotten any if I had not met James at UMM.

It's true that tons of people meet their significant others at college and their children also owe their lives to whatever place that is. What is stands out to me is that not only did I find someone who wanted to hang out with me for the foreseeable future, UMM also blazed the trail for my career - a roundabout trail, but a trail nonetheless. How many of us actually find our dream jobs? BIG thank you for that, UMM.

Here's the first picture that exists of me as a UMM student:

Move-in day 2005. Look at those tiny babies.
I have a nine-year-old post about move-in day here:
https://callagator.blogspot.com/2015/10/flashback-move-in-day-at-umm.html

And here's one of the last:

A million things in between are missing: the band and jazz band concerts, late nights at the newspaper, the dorms (good, bad, ugly) hours of research papers, my first boyfriend, my second (and last) boyfriend, zombie proms, working at the local coffee shop, the best classes (a tie between Women in Art and Literature of the Shoah), the worst classes (I'm looking right at you, Stars and the Universe - the old bait and switch giving a fun-sounding name to a terrible class),  my and my friend's crappy radio show, house parties, some tough life lessons, and some of the best friends I'll ever have. 

Happy anniversary, UMM. It's been 20 years since we met, but I love you like it was just yesterday.

being Minnesotan in the Sioux Falls metro area

In our local newspaper (The Star Herald) last week, a columnist for The Star Tribune (for the uninitiated, that is the newspaper out of Minneapolis/St. Paul) who covers "greater Minnesota" (aka, anywhere that's not the Twin Cities metro) wrote an article about whether or not Rock County - where I live - feels Minnesotan. We are so close to the South Dakota state border, and we are now officially considered part of the Sioux Falls, SD metro area. 

I wrote a letter to the editor about my feelings on the matter, and it was indeed published in the July 31 edition of the paper! Here is the extended and less-newspaper-friendly version. 

First, I invite you to read the original article by Karen Tolkkinen. I'll put her text in a nice teal color so as not to be confused with mine.

You can't blame South Dakota for wanting a little bit of Minnesota.

I mean, who wouldn't?

We've got the Minnesota Twins, way more lakes, the biggest ball of twine – and a governor who doesn't brag about killing the family dog.

So our neighbor to the west has reached over, real slow and careful like, and slung its arm around Rock County. Our Rock County, the southwest corner of our state, home of Blue Mounds State Park and Luverne.

As reported by Sioux Falls Business, Rock County is now considered part of the Sioux Falls, S.D. Metropolitan Statistical Area.

What it means is the U.S. Office of Management and Budget has determined that based on 2020 census data, Sioux Falls, population 202,000, and Rock County, population 10,000 (or just about), are married.

Well, the government doesn't actually say "married." The US Census Bureau says the two have a "high degree of economic and social integration." At the minimum, that sounds like a serious relationship.
 
Feeling somewhat attached to all parts of our state, including those in the furthest corners, I felt I had to reach out to Luverne Mayor Pat Baustian. Was Rock County's relationship with South Dakota stronger than its connection to Minnesota? Does Rock County feel Minnesotan? I felt way more anxious about this than I should have.

It was a reassuring conversation.

"My cable TV channel was selected for the sole reason that I get WCCO news," he said. "As the mayor of Luverne, you have to be connected to your state. That holds true with a lot of residents. They want to hear the Twin Cities metro. They have family up there, kids up there. I don't subscribe to the Argus Leader. I subscribe to the Star Tribune. We are a WCCO, Twins, Vikings, Wild family."

True, I-90 connects Rock County to Sioux Falls, and true, people from Luverne work there and shop there and yes, well, their cell phones might have a 605 area code if they bought them in Sioux Falls, and sure, it's possible that some Minnesota kids attend school in South Dakota if such a school is closer.

Also true that some he knows from Rock County have moved to South Dakota because they prefer the politics and the lack of an income tax.

But the reverse of at least some of those things is also true. Baustian knows people who have moved to Minnesota from South Dakota because they found lower property taxes or they like the politics better in Minnesota. South Dakotans also work in Rock County. And he sees lots of South Dakota license plates near the new seven-mile bike trail around Luverne that connects to the State Park.

I-90, he said, is truly a two-way street. And that street can work to Rock County's advantage, as Minnesota doesn't charge sales tax on groceries, unlike South Dakota.

Baustian is a convincing salesman for Luverne. He says he persuaded an acquaintance to move there after selling his house in Sioux Falls by encouraging him to come and look around, and by talking up the way the community passes multi-million dollar bond referendums with 65-70% support to build new schools and a performing art center.

"That's because the grandparents of kids that go to that school live in Luverne — they want good things for their grandkids," he said. "We have a strong belief in a strong education system. So we have a lot of families that come here for that."

By the time he was done talking, I was shaking my head over why anybody in their right mind would rather live in Sioux Falls than Luverne. Who knows? Give it a decade. Maybe Sioux Falls will fall within the Luverne Metropolitan Statistical Area.

And here is what I have to say:

I will say without hesitation that Rock County feels absolutely Minnesotan. 

Tolkkinen spoke with mayor Pat Baustian, who mentioned people who have moved from Minnesota from South Dakota for a number of reasons. I am one of those people. I grew up in South Dakota,  less than an hour from the Minnesota state border. However, my family almost never went to Minnesota. In my mind, it remained a mystical land of lakes and Prince.

I went to college at the University of Minnesota, Morris. I moved to Minneapolis about six months after graduation and stayed there for a year and a half. That was the first part of my Minnesota life, and let me tell you, I was pretty sad to leave it behind when I moved to Sioux Falls to be closer to James.

Fast forward two years. James and I were living in Sioux Falls and about to get married. I worked at the library in Sioux Falls; he worked at the school in Ellsworth, Minnesota. Where could we live that was about halfway in between? Luverne, of course!

Our first house. I had to dig WAY back into
the depths of Facebook for this.

Check that caption - I was thrilled to be able
to call myself a Minnesotan after a too-long absence.

(It should be noted James brought up a few options within the South Dakota borders, like Brandon, but I firmly shut him down. If we’re leaving the “city,” I will not accept anything less than for my status as a Minnesotan to be reinstated.)

Eleven years later, we are still in Luverne and have never looked back. We have careers here that we love, wonderful friends, the home of our dreams, and the strongest sense of community we could have imagined.

On top of that, Luverne is always improving. Every time you turn around, something new is in the works. I can’t begin to count everything that has happened since James and I first moved here. Luverne was already a great place to live back then; now it’s even better. And can you really beat living in a place with a state park in your backyard?

My South Dakota friends had two camps when I told them I was moving to Minnesota. Camp 1: “Think of the income tax.” I have no complaints about paying taxes, especially when I see all the incredible things my taxes are doing. Camp 2: “TAKE ME WITH YOU.” A great subsection of Camp 2 also said, “Sioux Falls/Brookings is basically Minnesota anyway – why can’t we just move the border over a little bit?”

So really, I think South Dakota has Minnesota envy. I know I did. One of the first things I had Minnesota envy over was the loon license plates. You know - the critical habitat ones. The second I moved to Minnesota, I got those plates for my car. It still gives me an extra jolt of happiness to see them.

Mayor Pat talked about South Dakotans moving to Minnesota for closer alignment with the state politics. That's absolutely true for me. It's a great feeling to be proud of the work your senators are doing. And your governor. And your lieutenant governor. And (most of) your representatives. 

We are all familiar with South Dakota's governor (see above: killing the family dog). I knew who one of the senators was, but couldn't remember if the second senator was the representative or if the representative was the second senator. I had no idea who the lieutenant governor was. I also have no idea what's going on in Pierre. Like Mayor Pat said, that's not what matters to us - it's what's going on in the St. Paul that means something.

Continuing down the politics rabbit hole (now I'm riled), take a look at this map from CNN (current as of July 29, 2024) that shows the status of abortion legality:

Here's another map from from the Center for Reproductive Rights (updated in real time, screenshot taken yesterday, July 30 2024) showing where abortion access is in danger:

Who's hanging strong in there?

Minnesota.

(And Illinois, Michigan, Kansas, Ohio, I see you. Team Midwest.)

But Iowa's coloration in the top chart is a little misleading - Iowa bans abortion after six weeks. At six weeks, one often doesn't know they are pregnant. So while the map says it's legal, it's barely legal and severely restricted.

South Dakota has a total ban with no exception for rape or incest.

Minnesota is coded as having "expanded access" in the second map. That means Minnesota has codified state-level reproductive rights and protected abortion providers and access to clinics. Minnesota is a place to receive care not just for Minnesotans, but from people from the surrounding states who can't access that same care at home. Our lieutenant governor Peggy Flanagan a few days ago, "If you're afraid, come to Minnesota. We've got you."

Clearly, this is an important issue for me, but I think we can move on now to something that is also close to my heart.

Libraries!

Minnesota libraries are phenomenal. Every library in the state (who chooses to - there are a few who opt out, but they are lame and are doing themselves a disservice) is a part of one of twelve regional systems. The Rock County Community Library is part of the Plum Creek system, as are 25 other libraries in the southwest part of the state. We can request books from all of these libraries, and these libraries can request books from us. Not only that - we can request books from any library in the state. I love to tell people about that when I’m giving tours of the library: what you see on the shelves is a tiny portion of what you can access. It’s so great.

I’m not well-versed in the operations of libraries in other states, but I do know about South Dakota, as my first library job was there. South Dakota has some great libraries, but no regional systems like their neighbor to the east. 

And lest we forget:

None of this is to say South Dakota is a bad place - it isn't. My favorite place on earth is in South Dakota: Lake Poinsett, the place with my happiest memories. James and I got married in Brookings, home to my favorite restaurant of all time: Nick's Hamburgers. South Dakota has the Badlands and the Black Hills. Tons of my family and friends live in South Dakota. My parents and grandparents and a few of my great grandparents are from South Dakota. I will always be from South Dakota, but now I'm kind of from Minnesota as well. 

The one thing I can't get on board with Minnesota on is duck duck gray duck. It's duck duck goose, you guys. Honestly.

Signed – a former South Dakotan who is proud to be a Minnesotan

PS – I will admit I do have a 605 area code – but that’s just because I got it when I was 18 and I’m too attached to get a new number. 

Gen Z and millennial fashion battle.

You know how you get suggestions for articles to read when you open up your internet browser? Well, the other day, Google "suggested" I read this article from The New York Times containing advice from Gen Z to millennials (my generation) on how to dress.

To Google, I say: fuck off.

Of course I read the article.

It's called "Millennials Don't Know What to Wear. Gen Z Has Thoughts."

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/01/style/millennial-style-gen-z-trends.html

I was aware of some of these things. I knew skinny jeans and the side part are out, and I recently learned the French tuck (where you tuck just the front of your top into your pants) is no longer fashionable. This article taught me my ankle booties are out, too. And probably my hats (there's a line between just-ride-wide brim and too wide.) And crossbody bags. And no-show socks. Gen Z wants to see your socks.

Here I am committing a multitude of fashion sins: a side part, a French
tuck, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. I'm not sorry.

What is more baffling to me is not necessarily what is out, but what is IN. In this article, Gen Z suggested these looks:

feathers (seriously)

crew socks (think dads in shorts on vacation)

crop tops everywhere

wide-leg jeans (been there, done that)

pointy-toe boots (see above)

cargo pants

turtlenecks (noooooooooo)

And the most offensive of all: low rise jeans.

The article said, "Not too low - a seven or eight inch rise."

Uh, no.

My jeans must be 11 inches or higher.

I'M NEVER GOING BACK.

We millennials have already lived through the horrors of low-rise jeans: the constant muffin top no matter how much you weigh, always having to hold up your pants when you bend down because your butt would 100% be hanging out if you didn't, making sure your shirts were long enough so you didn't have a plumber crack when you sat down... it was awful. 

Look at my teeny tiny brother and me circa 2007. This is a pair of horrendously low-rise jeans.
I have three shirts on and you can see my skin is still visible, belt be damned.

Another example of low-rise jeans, but from the front. Look at that ridiculously short fly. Low-rise jeans also had the world's tiniest pockets. It was practically criminal.

I am not ashamed to admit I had to ask Google where Gen Z shops, and it turns out when they're not thrift shopping, they shop in the same exact places I shopped when I was their age: American Eagle, Forever 21, H&M. I visited their websites and saw that ALL THREE of them are still offering not only skinny jeans, but high-rise jeans. 

The one thing I do agree with Gen Z fashion-wise is thrift shopping. They are recycling a lot of weird 25-year-old clothes that I probably wore when they were new, but that's cool for them. I don't know a lot of people who are going to fight them for it.

Here's the moral of this story: Gen Z, millennials don't give a shit what you think of how we dress. We're going to hang onto our ankle boots and crossbody bags as long as we feel like. 

We also don't really care what you're wearing, except the true feeling of being elderly enough that fashions from our youth have come back to haunt us. We see the butterfly clips and bucket hats returning and shudder.

No matter what you are wearing at any given time, there's someone out there you thinks you look stupid. But there's also someone out there who thinks you look spectacular. And you know what? In 10 or so years, everything any of us is wearing today will look stupid. 

We're all in this together.

RIP uterus.

Pregnancy and birth are not for the faint of heart.

Women are sold this image of pregnancy and birth as this beautiful thing where we are goddesses on a cloud and every second is nothing but magical. The reality is much different - pregnancy and birth are gritty and dangerous and not glamourous in the least.

Before actually giving birth, I spent very little time imagining how it would actually go. That was partially out of fear and partially because of my combination good luck and good health in which nothing at all had really gone wrong for me at that point (medically or really even life-wise at all). Why would pregnancy and giving birth be any different?

LOL said the universe.

I have been pregnant three times, and all three times have been complicated. In all three cases, I felt like I was failing my babies - my body wasn't giving them what they needed to fully thrive.

pregnancy #1

• Having never been pregnant before, I didn't know what to expect when it came to pregnancy symptoms. I felt terrible until well into my second trimester. For those who have not experienced it, the first months of pregnancy feel like the worst hangover you've ever had, but without the fun that typically precedes a hangover - and this hangover lasts for four months. 
• I developed gestational high blood pressure (bordering on preeclampsia). Among other things, I was under strict instruction to go to the ER immediately if I had a bad headache that would not go away. I have had migraines for years, so this was a tough call. I had a particularly painful migraine at the end of February, so I called my doctor, who told me to go to the maternity ER. I was there for hours, getting serious pain meds through an IV. Much to my relief, I got to go home (I had been threatened with bedrest) and even went to work the next day.
• That was the weekend, and that Monday, I went to an appointment with the high-risk obstetrician. He had read about what happened with my headache and told me he was admitting me to the hospital. "I can't believe they let you go home," he said. I cried.

delivery #1

• I sat in the hospital for three days before they decided to induce at 35 weeks and 5 days. I found out later I was at risk of having a stroke.
• My epidural failed. 
• James was a great cheerleader. He told me I was a goddess and me having a baby was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. He didn't even pass out.
• Birth was the most painful thing I have ever experienced (and hopefully will ever experience). It felt like my body was being ripped apart. I truly didn't think I was going to make it out alive. I knew millions of women had done this before me and millions would after me, but in the moment, it really felt like I was going to die. 
• Turns out I didn't die. Tiny baby Phineas was born and whisked to the NICU immediately.

So smol.

the aftermath #1

• After delivery, my blood pressure was still high enough I needed to be put on magnesium to prevent seizures. I was not allowed to get out of bed for 24 hours. 
• Phineas had been taken directly to the NICU, so I didn't get to meet him until after that 24 hours had passed.
• Since he was born before 36 weeks, Phineas automatically got a stay in the NICU. He was a "lazy eater" and stayed there for a month.
• Guess what happened about a week after I delivered? That's right: COVID shutdown. My parents, James's mom, and our friends Nate and Taylor got to meet Phineas, but then the NICU closed to all non-parents. And THEN only one parent could be in the NICU at any given time. It was a lonely month of NICU visits where James and I would just pass each other in the parking lot.
• When Phineas finally got to come home, the COVID shutdown was going strong. We were essentially trapped in our house. Friends would come over and look at Phineas through our front windows as we held him up like Simba. James taught school from home while I went back to work to navigate a newly-restricted library. All while being terrified this new disease would kill our tiny vulnerable baby.
• Recovery from a vaginal delivery is a BITCH. One point for C-sections.
• I have had dreams and flashbacks about being back in the hospital having Phineas. I just recently learned this is PTSD.
• Once we were far enough past this time to joke about it, we said, "At least if we have another baby, it HAS to go better than this!" Famous last words.

pregnancy #2

• I accidentally got pregnant when I began a new medication for migraine prevention that made my birth control less effective. Could've used a heads up about that.
• At eight weeks, I miscarried what would have been a little girl. 

aftermath #2

• This will really get to me out of the blue sometimes. Like when I'm having kind of a rough day and see a mom with a daughter and remember I'm never going to have that. 

pregnancy #3

• The pregnancy symptoms were fast and furious. This time, with a three-year-old running around, the level of tired I felt was indescribable.
• After becoming pregnant, I had to stop taking my migraine preventative medication, so I had frequent migraines throughout the pregnancy. 
• Having firmly entered the realm of "geriatric pregnancy" and having been through two challenging pregnancy experiences before, this pregnancy made me edgy. We did the recommended genetic testing, finding out early on our baby was not likely to have any chromosomal disorders.
• Later ultrasounds revealed this baby to have a two-vessel umbilical cord (instead of the usual three) and a low-lying placenta. The two-vessel cord was no big deal on its own, but had it been paired with other abnormalities in the ultrasound, it could have been. If it did not resolve itself, the low-lying placenta would mean a C-section so the baby and I would not bleed to death.
  
• I had to have multiple in-depth ultrasounds because the baby's heart was never fully visible. This was nerve-wracking, but it ended up being perfectly fine.
• While I managed to avoid preeclampsia, I did get hit with gestational elevated glucose (bordering on gestational diabetes). I changed my diet and faithfully poked my finger to test my blood sugar four times a day, every day. I was devastated by this, but the doctors told me it's basically a roll of the dice. You can be super healthy and still wind up with it.
• Because I'd been so close to preeclampsia before, my doctor determined I would be induced at 37 weeks. 

delivery #2

• I went in for the induction, downright terrified my epidural would fail once more. James was an excellent advocate, making sure I got the epidural as soon as possible and alerting the anesthesiologist when I began to feel my legs again. James identified a bend in the line that was the source of the problem, allowing the drugs to flow and me to numb up once again.
• A tornado siren went off after I was induced, so all the laboring mothers were wheeled out of their rooms and into the hallway. My team and I ended up having to go into one of the operating rooms for shelter. Thankfully, it didn't last long, and we were given the all-clear.
• After many hours post-induction, the process was not forging ahead like it should. The baby stopped descending, and his heart rate and breathing got a bit spotty at times. The nurses (OB nurses are saints, in case you didn't know) had me contorting into all sorts of shapes to try and get the baby to move, but it didn't work. The ridiculous thing is that I could not move my legs, so it was up to James and the nurses to hoist them around for me. It was the weirdest feeling.
• I started the induction process at 7am October 3. By 1am October 4, no further progress had been made, and the baby's heart rate and breathing were getting dangerously low. The doctor told me we would have to do an emergency C-section. I cried.
• I was wheeled into the operating room and given a heavy dose of anesthesia - not enough to put me under, but enough to make me super sick. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. Was I really here? Was this actually happening? The last thing I remember is seeing James hold a baby up to my face.

Shortly before I lost consciousness.

• I woke up hours later to find myself alone in a recovery room. A nurse quickly arrived to tell me the baby was fine, but I had needed an emergency hysterectomy. "Really?!" I said, wondering if she was talking to the right person.
• Here's what happened. After the baby (whom we named Robin) was delivered, the doctors could not stop the abdominal hemorrhaging. I had been immediately put on higher pain meds before being put under completely, explaining my lack of memory. Once they lifted my uterus out of my body, they realized what happened: my uterus had ruptured. There was a gigantic hole in the back. Robin's arm had gotten stuck in that hole, which is why he wasn't descending like he should have. To save me from bleeding to death, the only real option was a hysterectomy. Poor James had to give the consent for the hysterectomy, because (according to the doctors) I was "too high on ketamine" to really understand what was happening. (When they asked me if a hysterectomy would be ok, I apparently said, "Yeah, that would be great!" which I would have said anyway, ketamine or not.)
• After I had woken up a bit, I talked to the surgeons. When an OB doctor needs to do an emergency hysterectomy, they summon the on-call doctor because apparently this is a two-surgeon job. They were both thrilled - yes, thrilled - to have worked on my uterus. You see, my uterus had no business rupturing. I had no previous C-sections and no uterine fibroids, both of which are known to cause ruptures because they weaken the uterine wall. They had no idea why my perfectly intact uterus would rupture. Neither had ever seen this before, and one of the doctors had been an OB for over 40 years. The odds of this happening were 1 in 20,000. One of the doctors even gave me his cell phone number in case anything else happened. That's probably not normal.

the aftermath #3

• A recovery from a C-section is no joke - and recovery from a hysterectomy on top of that is REALLY no joke. Ten weeks of absolutely no lifting anything heavier than Robin. That's basically everything. I also felt like I'd been hit by a truck - I had even needed a blood transfusion.
• Because of my hysterectomy, I had to have a whole bunch of follow-ups with my OB. She told me to take recovery very seriously. She said, "I'm not trying to scare you, but if you bust your stitches, your intestines will fall out your vagina." That's what she said when she was NOT trying to scare me?!
  
• If this had to happen to anyone, I'm glad it was me. James and I knew we were done having children, so I certainly had no use for it any more. I feel like I've hit the gynecological jackpot. No periods, first of all - I've already had my period for 20 years, and I probably got out of 20 more years of it. No pap smears, since my cervix went with my uterus. No risk of uterine or cervical cancer. And no risk whatsoever of pregnancy without the hassle of birth control pills, an IUD, etcetera. The only downside is when my pants don't fit, I can't blame my period any more. Now I'm just chubby.
• When nosy acquaintances or strangers ask me when I'm having a third child, I can make them very uncomfortable very quickly by telling them I had an emergency hysterectomy. That shuts them right up. 

takeaways

• The doctors are great, but the OB nurses are the real VIPs. They are with you every step of the way. Anything you need, they are on it. They're the ones who make sure you get pain meds when you need them; they're the ones bringing you warm blankets; they're the ones who hold your legs when you're pushing; they're the ones telling you that you're amazing and you can do this thing. When I had Phineas, I have no idea who the doctor was who delivered him. She showed up at the last minute to catch him. But my lead nurse's name was Taylor. 
• Along those same lines - for the love of Dolly Parton, be nice to your nurses. Both times in labor and delivery, our nurses told us each shift was fighting over who got to take care of us because we were nice to them. Apparently that's kind of rare. I just wanted to win labor by being agreeable, and I guess I did.
• Labor and delivery (and then recovery) is the only time you're going to be treated like the goddamn queen you are, so you'd better enjoy it. It almost makes the pain and suffering worthwhile. 
• These experiences taught me I have weirdly high pain tolerance. After Phineas was born, I had a hematoma that I didn't know about. (I was going to say "TMI alert," but this entire blog post is a TMI, so why bother now?) My doctor poked it and she said, "Does that hurt?" I said, "Ehh." She said, "Every other patient I've had with one of these would have passed out if I had done that."
  
• Both of my children's deliveries almost ended in my demise, so I've got a powerful card in my pocket - but I need to remember to save that for the big things. "I don't want to take out the garbage." "I ALMOST DIED FOR YOU."

It took me until I was 32 years old to decide that yes, I would give motherhood a try. Four years and two children later, my body said, "Ehhh, enough of that." And now I'm short a few organs.

It was my uterus who did the heavy lifting, and it was my uterus who bore the brunt of the damage. To my uterus, I say: thank you for your service. There are two little boys who literally owe you their lives.

In a nutshell, my body wasn't at all cut out for pregnancy. If I had been around and attempting to give birth before modern medicine, giving birth to Phineas would have killed me off - and if I had, by some miracle, made it through that, I absolutely wouldn't have lived through Robin's birth. I will have health complications for the rest of my life from these two: high blood pressure and am now 50% more likely to develop diabetes than I was pre-Robin. I also have a gnarly scar where my second child and my uterus were removed from my body. (Fun fact: Phineas respects me a lot more now that I have that scar.)

No, being pregnant and giving birth is not for the weak. That's why the women have to do it.

(If you would like to see a photo of my shredded uterus, I'm going to post it way down here at the end of this story. It's wild. The surgeons were so excited about the rarity of the situation they took a picture of it - it reminds me of a fisherman holding up a prize walleye. I am going to put a good amount of space in between here and there though so if you don't want to see it, you won't accidentally be confronted with it.)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

There you go!