Less Words

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I might have shown this to the hubs yesterday. And he might have laughed. 

Best to you all. 

Hot Yoga

I like to think of myself as fit. I like working out, but I certainly go through phases and am somewhat bipolar when it comes to a regime.

I love the results of exercise...endorphins are legal and oh-so-feel-good-drogas from our heavenly father. That's totally the scientific definition.

However, I also love surfing the internet and will find myself lost in a vortex of nothingness for hours on end. Buzzfeed quizzes are of the devil and (on a completely unrelated note) I know exactly which character I would be on every single NBC or FOX comedy. True story.

These two desires are a daily struggle. I would like to not have a pancake bottom...I would also like to watch my alter ego Liz Lemon win at life and eat hotdogs. She makes me feel normal. Blurgh.

I basically want all the things. But don't especially want to exert effort to get all the things (It sounds like terrible grammar, unless you get the reference).

Anyhow.

I'm back on my "we need to get healthy" kick. I took a break after losing 15 lbs earlier this year. Well, with approximately 7 of those lbs finding their way back to my middle and a family beach trip approaching...motivation hath been found.

So, a good friend invited me to her Hot Yoga class.

I've always wanted to try hot yoga and have really been wanting to go to an actual class in general - as opposed to just using my extensive video collection.

Had I known what I was in for...I would have canceled, accepted my fate as an 'out of shape' person, and cut myself a second piece of pie.

First, have you ever left your house in yoga tights? Yeah...me neither. No one should ever have to see me in pants that tight. FYI I definitely layered a few long shirts as to hide any offending areas.

Secondly, it's  by definition HOT. Layering for modesty comes to be seen as an antiquated and downright quaint practice whilst melting away to nothing and posed like a dolphin. I did refrain from stripping down to my undergarments, but I'm not going to say that the thought didn't cross my mind (it was a women's only class after all).

Thirdly, you have to stare at yourself in a mirror. Which is actually a very freeing process. For one, I now realize that some people look really graceful in the practice of yoga. I am not one of those people.  Did I mention that I do a great impression of an ostrich suffering from vertigo?

Fourthly (is that even a word?), you will leave your 45 minute torture session class knowing your limitations, respecting what your body can do, and feeling a huge sense of empowerment.

Fifthly, classes like this create a sisterhood. During the class I never once got the feeling that anyone was watching me or judging me. We were all collectively struggling against gravity and our mindsets (you try telling your mind that it's okay to get in some of those poses). We certainly did not have time to concern ourselves with the woman in too tight pants breathing heavily as she quietly sobbed in child's pose.

Sixthly (yeah, I'm just inventing adverbs now), I was brought to a place of reckoning. It is the place in all worthy endeavors where we think, "This is happening. I'm pretty sure I should turn back now. All signs are telling me 'DO NOT CONTINUE,' but I think the end result is worth it. I really don't want to do this. There is no way out. This is happening."

My places of reckoning have been transformative: my first day teaching, the day Matt and I moved to a city across the country site unseen, the moments I gave birth to my daughters (and the several hours leading up to them), and Hot Yoga.

Giggle if you must, but once you have committed to downward-triangle-hike-your-leg-over-your-neck-and-breath-pose...there is no getting out of that situation gracefully. One must endure.

What are your reckoning moments? 

Sickness & Other Hard Things

The last few weeks have been rough ones for our little tribe.

We did get to go away to Jackson, WY for a few days, but it wasn't a happy-go-lucky type getaway. It was much more of a retreat, sabbatical, fleeing-the-current-situation-in-hopes-of-getting-some- perspective-and-making-a-plan-type thing.

The day before we left for our long weekend, I developed an earache and my throat was a bit sore. I didn't think anything of it. I started taken a few over the counter drogas that generally cut short whatever I am fighting and help to eliminate symptoms. Las drogas stemmed the tide and I hoped that I would be right as rain in a few days.

We came home and returned to our normal routines. I started cleaning. I had an AM energy spurt and wanted to take advantage. I was wiping down the kitchen and moved onto tackle the laundry room. I started wiping some lint of the walls.

Oh wait. That's not lint. It's mold. Mold. Dark mold. All over our walls.

So, I got the Clorox out and went to work. I went to other parts of the house that are poorly ventilated and looked for mold in those places as well. By the end of the day I was exhausted and angry.

The next morning, I woke up feeling worse and continually getting worse. Note to Self: Don't tackle the cleaning of mold until you know what kind of mold it is and are perfectly healthy and taking the appropriate precautions.

The sickness lasted another week. A lump in my throat developed and made it difficult to swallow and eat. We took samples of the mold and had them sent to labs. I finally decided that giving my body 2 weeks to fight off infection was sufficient and that a medical professional might know best. Yay antibiotics. Thank God for Penicillin as a reactive lymph node and several white spots in my throat were not gonna just leave of their own accord.

So, to recap.
Sickness.
Mold.
Fear of Deadly Mold.
Lots of Anger about it.
Still Sick.
Fear of thinking sickness related to Deadly Mold.
Antibiotics.
Feeling Better.
Waiting on Lab Results from mold samples.

Blurgh.

Why I am the worst...

To talk to when it comes to miscarriage.

This is gonna be heavy. As a warning, many people responded positively to this article. I did not. I have my updates to further clarify my position in red.

Sorry.

This is my reaction to an article that has been floating along the inter-tubes. It talks of WHY someone who calls themselves "Pro-Life" should view miscarriage with the same gravity and mourning as they would abortion. It offers a few examples of how pro-lifers tend to send mixed messages about the worth of life in these two very different losses.

Specifically, that when babies are aborted people tend to count the loss as "greater" than that of a baby who has been lost via miscarriage. The evidence that she gives is that people she knows said "unfeeling" or "stupid" things after her miscarriage. From here she really does take GIANT LEAPS in assuming the general opinion of all pro-lifers when faced with miscarriage. Perhaps, she is writing a very pointed blog post to specific people who have hurt her. This is dangerous...because in essence her article berates an entire advocacy group.

Let's get a few things out there before I dive into this subject.  I have had two miscarriages. They occurred within months of one another. I actually miscarried our second pregnancy on the due date of our first...which I miscarried days before my birthday. Miscarriage is a reality in our family.

I miscarried our first baby in full knowledge of our social circle - surrounded by friends and family. I miscarried my second babies completely isolated from friends and family, thousands of miles away - no one knew we were pregnant to begin with, so sharing the loss with those we love was even more painful.

People said stupid stuff. Because people are people and most of the time people are trying, but in the end are ill-equipped to say things that are not stupid. If you are looking for comfort from people, you will always be disappointed. Always. If you are looking for people to say wise things and understand how it feels, then you are setting yourself up to be offended and hurt. Because no one knows how YOU feel and very rarely can they say the "right" thing.

One person saying the wrong thing doesn't give the author the right to imply that all pro-lifers do not value the lives of miscarried babies as much as aborted babies. 

To note the obvious (again), most pro-lifers aren't saying that miscarried babies don't matter or that they matter less. A pro-lifer's very existence, however, is to fight against abortion and to stand up for aborted babies. That's kind of their thing.

Pro-lifers have talking points and statistics and a knowledge base to work with when it comes to talking about abortion. The general response when a baby is lost via miscarriage is (if we're honest) "That Sucks." We don't have talking points on miscarriage and therefore, unless having gone through it, the general populace has no source of information or understanding to pull comforting one-liners from.

I'm gonna go ahead and put this out there:

Abortion is more tragic than miscarriage. I'm fairly sure the original author would agree with me.

Namely, because if you are pro-life, you view abortion as a mother CHOOSING TO KILL her child. That is tragic. And if you think it is less tragic than miscarriage...then, I am sorry, you are wrong.

Child-sacrifice...to the god of  self and convenience is pretty much on ALL levels harder to swallow than miscarriage. The injustice of abortion leads many (including myself) to mourn murdered babies MORE...

Miscarriage isn't a cake walk. Please, do not misunderstand me. It's not easy. But there is a comfort in knowing that my babies passed away, were mourned, were wanted, and that yes, were NEVER going to be born. I am comforted knowing that they were loved, cared for, and fought for.

I didn't choose to abort a healthy fetus. I miscarried a baby...and God knew it was going to happen before I even came into being. I find comfort in that.

I'm not saying my babies' lives matter less...I'm saying they LIVED the life that God had laid out for them and that it was not brought to a premature end and that their lives were full of LOVE. Devil's Advocate could argue the same point for aborted babies and that could lead to an interesting discussion, but that's not my motive here today.

My motive in writing is to say:

Dear Momma's Who Have Never Gotten to See Your Babies,
It's okay for you to mourn. It is okay for you to grieve. You will never meet your babies in this realm and there is a sadness to that. Your loss (that of someone you loved and lost) should never be compared to the mass murdering of millions of babies every year. Never. Not by others and not by YOU. If you feel a need to do that, then you need to get over your bitterness. You are still struggling with some very strong (and misdirected) emotions if you feel the need to berate others who stand up as a voice for murdered babies. I'm sorry that miscarriage doesn't get more "air time" or "coverage" in the pro-life world, but there is a reason. One is natural loss and the other is murder. There is a difference and the latter is infinitely more tragic.

What We Eat

I have a little group of ladies that I meet with every Tuesday evening. They are pretty great. We read and discuss books - in hopes that we can be better. It's a group of women, so let's face it, we are always looking to improve in SOME area...we also like to drink wine and eat white cheddar popcorn.

Our current book is Jen Hatmaker's 7: An Expiremental Mutiny Against Excess. In our LOVE for the book, we decided to take up the seven-month challenge. We are currently in Month 1: Food.

Do not mess with my food. I like food. I was hesitant at first to take part, but I go really excited as I read. And since Jen's (can I call you Jen?) read's like a blog (fast, easy, conversational, not super THICK), I decided to read a lot of the books that she read during her experiment with Food.

I chose to delve into The Omnivore's Dilemma, In Defense of Food, and Fast Food Nation. Full Disclosure: I have started all these books at some point in my life prior to now and found them to be incredibly boring.

See, I was a fat kid growing up. Seriously. I remember breakfasts of Diet Coke Big Gulps and plastic wrapped cream cheese and cherry-flavored pastries...from our corner 7-11. I cringe now, but I was seriously disappointed if my day did NOT start off this way.  My lunches during this same period of my life (middle school) consisted of food from the vending machines. My dinners were either "homemade" in that they were prepared foods that required a can being opened or something being thawed OR if my parents were tired (because they both worked and were legitimately weary), we would pick something up on the way home.

I do not blame my parents for the way that I ate.

I do blame a lot of other people...namely, our screwy government or society...

I've learned a lot about the history of food and more importantly the Food & Nutrition industry in our country. I've become really wary of what my family eats. I mean, whether it's a story about yoga mat plastic being put into pretty much all fast food breads OR unfit meat being "washed" with dangerous chemicals...not much surprises me.

So, for the past year my family and I have been slowly shifting to a slow food-whole food way of life.

What does THAT look like?

Well, it "looks" hard and time-consuming (a lot like cloth diapers), but it's completely worth it and not that difficult when you get into the habit of it all.

We don't buy snack foods. Like crackers or cookies or anything that can be unwrapped. We snack on fruits and veggies and nuts. My kids seriously think that goldfish & gummy worms are luxury-items, but they wake up every morning asking for an apple (and I am just fine with that).

We don't buy pre-made foods. We make our own breads, muffins, brownies, cookies. We don't buy much that is pre-made, pre-prepared, pre-mixed. The only "prepared" foods that we purchase on a regular basis are peanut butter, jelly, jarred tomato products, flour, cheeses, yogurts, and pastas. We would happily make all of these things ourselves. But we got "lazy" this year and haven't canned any tomatoes (we did make 36 jars of apple butter). We want a grain mill and pasta press, but currently lack the kitchen storage or space to justify their purchase. We're working on cheese and yogurt (waiting for cheese cloth to ship).

We EAT fat. We eat REAL, full-fat everything. We think animal fat is good...and we eat it.

We have cut down on meat. We don't eat meat at every meal. Meat is expensive. We did purchase half of a pig that was grass-fed and raised locally. It was worth every penny. Knowing how and where and what went into our meat is a huge load off of our minds. Although, next time we will cure the meat ourselves.

We eat some sugar...but not a ton. We actually use sugar in most of the things we bake, but it's not a lot and it's not a sugar substitute.

And you know what?

We don't feel deprived. We end up eating less of everything because we are fuller more quickly. Our food is more satisfying. Everything seems a little more decadent...and it takes effort to make everything, so we don't just mindlessly consumer the fruits of that labor.

We've actually LOST weight. We are healthier. In the past 5 months, I have lost about 20 lbs.....and that is with only working out like 2-3 times a week TOPS. I don't get how it is working, but I will take it.

We still have bad habits... I LOVE COKE. I LOVE IT. I need to quit it. We also love the 24-hour Mexican dive down the street...but I justify our eating there knowing that I will find a bay leaf in my burrito (their big on cooking from scratch too).

What are your biggest concerns about the foods nowadays?

One of Those Weekends

My husband had a FOUR DAY weekend. What up?! Every girl's dream come true.

I'm not gonna lie. I was envisioning lots of sleep and a day at the spa and a family trip to "Anywhere but here."

I dreamed of leisurely cups of coffee while my husband and I perused the newspaper, nibbling on chocolate croissants (In my head I am totally pronouncing it in that annoyingly accurate French-way). Our children would talk to the other cafe-goers and play quietly in the kids' area.

Everyone just ignore that fact that NO place like that exists in Chey-oming and that I might have been unabashedly playing out this entire scenario as though we were in Portland, OR or Athens, GA.

In my more realistic expectations, I was planning on a massage (gift certificate) and then a visit to the local coffee shop. I need to work on a a talk that I will be giving to a group of ladies in Ft. Collins, CO on Thursday.

Then I woke up on Friday...Sick.As.A.Dog.

The common cold is a nuisance and really must be stopped.

So, gone were my croissant nibbles and quiet children...they were viciously murdered by cranky (probably sick) children and a coughing husband.

I spent the entirety of Saturday in my pajamas...which sounds like a good day, until you factor in the part where I ran out for an errand only changing my appearance by donning my down coat and boots.

My kids spent at least 2-3 hours of those days in front of our Kindles - playing games or watching Team Umi Zoomi.

My husband and I barely even talked as we trudged through the mundane efforts of caring for our little ones or trying not to fall over during our sporadic coughing fits.

We are on the mend today, but I cannot lie...I would have preferred a massage and a leisurely Chai.

So, what was your weekend like? 

Part 5: The Day....

Things I have learned about PTSD:

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is most often viewed as a "veterans' disease" or something that victims of rape or violence suffer from. The general public thinks of it in terms of big "T" trauma.

However, it can happen to many of us...and can be the result of other types of trauma. Trauma that when viewed side-by-side with rape or mob violence seems kind of "puny" and "pathetic."

Women are considered more "at risk" to develop PTSD. Also, people who naturally have lower levels of cortisol in their bodies are more "at risk" to develop PTSD.

I fall into both of these categories. I am a woman and I've known that my body doesn't naturally make enough cortisol since I was 15.

Oh, AND I experienced trauma...when my daughter almost died.

I also experienced prolonged exposure to this traumatic stress during our three months of uncertainty concerning her enlarged noggin.'

I'm working through it. I'm seeing a therapist. After months of living with it, I finally decided that something was actually wrong.

I still jump up when I hear loud noises. I run (as in jump out of my chair and sprint) to my children when they have fallen. If my kids bump their heads, I do a basic neuro check...seriously.

I probably "check-in" on my children way more often than I would have - had we never experienced the fall. And my kids know that momma is NOT MESSIN' when I say "Hold onto the rail!" and "No playing on the stairs!"

I often experience uncontrollable shakes when I think about that day and I cry when I tell the story.

But I do NOT crumble into tears at the slightest event or noise...and that's an improvement.

This past Christmas, my now toddling, dare-devil of a baby climbed onto a toilet, lost her footing, and bonked her head on our iron sink. After I scooped her up....she threw up all over me. I admit, we ran her across the street. They checked her out, reassured us that we did the right thing by bringing her in, watched her for an hour, and then let us go home.

Trauma just leaves scars....and some are longer-lasting than others.

Most everyone around me understands and gives me room. There are some who don't.

The other evening a woman said rather pointedly in my general direction:

"I'm just more laid-back than some people. I'm not a fearful person. I mean, my kid fell 20 feet and I don't jump up every time he falls."

Well, I didn't respond at the time. Because I was raised to be a lady (and ladies don't pummel rude women in the head with flying objects).

But that is awesome that you are so incredibly laid back. It's also awesome that your child fell 20ft and suffered absolutely no physical injuries. My daughter wasn't that lucky.

I don't LIKE being this way. I certainly don't do it to get attention I'm hilarious and prefer to get my attention via inappropriate jokes and well-written blog posts. It is not generally in my character to be so neurotic. I wish I could have just moved along without being affected in any way. It doesn't make me less laid back or less faithful. It makes me broken.

Please, don't use your "well-adjustedness" to shame me into feeling like I am "lesser" or "wanting."

PTSD is a path I am walking (you know, the one that God laid out for me before any of us came into existence). I don't expect others to understand how it feels. However, I do expect that we all give one another GRACE. In the Bible I read, It's kind of a big deal.

PTSD doesn't result from a lack of faith. It is not the result of giving into fear. It's not a sin. It's not a mere side-effect of not praying hard enough or disbelief. It does not make me a lesser Christian.

I believe. My daughter was brought back from the brink of death. I BELIEVE.

My brain is just a bit broken right now...and I'm glad for it. It brings me to a place of understanding my own weakness and leaning on a God who is so much bigger than I am.

It helps me empathize with others who are walking the same road...or a different road...whether their trauma be "great" or "small."

It means my heart is turning more into a heart of flesh...and is not hardened to those around me.

It means, God is bringing me out of a pit...and I'm thankful that He is ABLE.

So, like I said....the title of this blog series could have been anything.

The Day My Daughter Almost Died - The Day Our God Answered Our Prayers - The Day I took a $37K Helicopter Ride for a Bad Cup of Coffee - The Day I Got PTSD....

Peace be with you all today.

If you have experienced trauma and suspect that you may be suffering from PTSD, I would encourage you whole-heartedly to seek help from a professional. If someone you know is suffering from PTSD, give grace, speak kindly, and pray that God will work.

Part 4: The Day...

We have scars.

For one, my husband wouldn't carry either of our daughters down the stairs for some time. He will only do it now (over a year later) when wearing shoes.

He seems fairly well-adjusted aside from that one quirk...which can more or less be considered a "rational" precaution.

I have not been so "lucky."

I did not process in the moment what was happening during that time. I was not frantic. I was calm and collected. For many who know me - this is not my "norm." I'm a feeler. I didn't feel anything for a while.

So, scars and feelings would pop up in the oddest places.

I would be in bed, reading a book about nothing at all in particular and I would burst into uncontrollable sobbing.

My husband would rush to my side and ask what was wrong, the only words I could get out..."She could have died."

I would hear noises...and they didn't have to be loud: someone moving a chair upstairs, our oldest jumping, NORMAL things. My response would be an elevated heart rate as I sprinted towards the source...only to crumble into a sobbing pile when I saw that all was well.

I had never been a worried or overprotective mother.

Even after 2 miscarriages, I never felt like the world was out to "get" my family or my children in particular. But after that day, I have  found myself living with this ever present sense of doom. Even in my thankfulness, I felt doomed.

Before that day, I knew my babies would be just fine. Falls happen. Bumps happen. Cuts, scrapes, and burns happen. It's all part of it. 

My being irrational about noises or bumps or falls...was new to me. It was new to my husband. We had always had a wait and see approach when it came to our babies - not wanting them to be anxious or worried. We shrugged off a lot...BEFORE.

My husband was still able to shrug a lot off. I just couldn't shake it even if I could logically process that no one was in danger.

Even in those irrational moments, I knew my children were God's. I knew He was our protector. Just look how He has saved our girl.

This was not a question of faith.

This was...this is post traumatic stress disorder.

Part 3: The Day...

We spent a week at the hospital across the street. A week. 7 days. She wouldn't stop throwing up.

The doctor reluctantly ran another CT. No change. No bleeding. Why was she still throwing up? A virus was their best guess, but everyone was on edge. It was hard to wrap our minds around a head injury so conveniently coinciding with a stomach virus (that lasts an entire week).

My husband and I switched off  nights sleeping at the hospital and days spent with our oldest. Our two-year-old came to visit often and was now very accustomed to the hospital room. She would thank the nurses for taking care of her baby sister.

But, we were all worn out. By the end of that week, she had lost 15% of her body weight. That's a lot of weight when you're barely three-months-old.

After 24-hours of keeping food down and having regular dirty diapers, Baby Girl was discharged. We returned to our house - comforted by the fact that we were only mere feet from medical professionals.

Things seemed normal. We were cautiously optimistic.

In late January, we took our now 4-month-old in for her (now-belated) three-month "well baby" check. They took all the normal measurements. Her weight had bounced back a little and she had lengthened, and they measured her head THREE times.

Her pediatrician came in looking grave - I know that look. I hate that look.

Her head had crossed percentiles - 75th percentile to 99.9th percentile. They can't say "100th percentile" because it would be equivalent to saying she has the "biggest head of all the babies in the whole world."  Which isn't considered to be scientifically provable or medically professional.

The main concern was hydrocephalus - a build up of fluid on the brain which results from what is normal fluid on the brain failing to drain properly. It can build up around the brain (not as dangerous) or inside the brain (not great). It's a tough thing and it is often a result of (you guessed it) a brain hemorrhage. The condition requires several brain surgeries, shunts, etc...it's a lifetime condition and cannot just be "fixed." 

So,  we traveled a lot. We talked a lot. We researched a lot. We lived with our stomachs in knots. We didn't sleep well. Several trips down to the neuro folks in Colorado, several sets of family head measurements, an ultrasound of her head and neck, and an MRI...WEEKS dragged on. WHY is her head so big? Everything seems normal? Why is it crossing over percentiles. The questions didn't stop.

(Answers...even hard prognoses are so much easier to handle and move on from than the unknown)

The end conclusion?

My husband (her father) has a head that measures in the 99.9th percentile. Again...we can't say that he has "the biggest head out there" - but it's a biggern' (love you, honey). When I say "off the charts," I am not exaggerating. I was there, his measurement is quite literally not anywhere on the graphic that we looked at.

She is normal...she just has a HUGE head which is probably one of the reasons that such a "small" fall had such a huge impact (brain hemorrhage). Her brain just had more room to move about (don't think too hard on it because it will make you nauseous).

All being said and done, we lived in this constant state of "waiting for the other foot to drop" for three months. One does not suffer trauma - especially a prolonged traumatic process without being changed.

We have scars. 

A Whisper

I'm deep in the trenches of life currently...well, not life, but motherhood. I lose my patience often and it is not something that I am proud of. I am elbow deep in poo and vomit and dirty dishes and laundry...and most days end with me putting my babes to bed and happily enjoying the peace and quiet of the day's first "stillness" and being alone.

I am a selfish and wicked woman.

My cousin was diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma. In the short span of a few months, it has manifested as 3 very ugly tumors in his brain. Two of those tumors are in his frontal lobe and are inoperable. I am a selfish and wicked woman.

Here is what I can tell you about my cousin. His name. I know it. I know that he is 5 years younger than I am. The last time I saw him and hugged his neck was when we were teenagers. It was my sister's wedding. I loved the way that it was so easy to talk to him. He was hilarious and had an awesome Michigan accent. We sang together a lot that weekend. I always thought there would be more time.

Our parents weren't close and that meant that visits didn't happen. I went to college and found my life too busy to be bothered with silly correspondence to family. I'm a selfish and wicked woman.

My cousin became a devoted dad during that time. Things with the mom didn't work out, but he stuck around. He loves his boy - his whole world.

We reconnected on facebook. He has a massive beard and a beautiful smile. He's kind of a nature loving guy and has great taste in music. He always seems up to helping others and hanging out. He lives for his kid. He seems to practice true hospitality - in that he invites folks into his life as it is.

He's dying.

This life is a whisper. It's a quick, beautiful whisper. If we're lucky, it's this sort of wonderful whisper. You hear it drawn out, slowly, right into your ear - "I love you." But, I think for a lot of people it can be the harried "I..." that never gets to finish.

Life is a whisper. Make sure to live every moment of it. Pursue relationships with loved ones. Listen to music. Have dance parties with your kids and forget about the dishes. Relish their squishy soft skin and BE PRESENT. Don't seek after tomorrow or "when" - because we are not promised more time. We are given the moment. The right now.

Swine Flu

As many of you have probably already heard, in recent days several countries' governments, including Mexico, the U.S., and Canada, have taken measures to prevent the spread of a new strain of swine flu - the U.S. having moved stockpiles of the flu vaccine to different areas of the country. This move comes as a reaction to nearly 20 deaths in Mexico having been (confirmed) caused by the virus. There are still another 80 deaths in question.

Several cases have been found in parts of the U.S. and Canada, mainly among persons returning from trips in Mexico. Swine flu is initially contracted from pigs themselves, but can be spread from person to person like any other form of flu. This particular strain of swine flu is causing alarm as it has been fatal to peoples between the ages of 25-45, a demographic that is not usually labeled "high-risk."

Precautions:

1. Get your vitamins on - you need to make sure your immune system is well-prepared.
2. Wash your hands often and thoroughly.
3. Keep your hands CLEAN and away from your face.
4. Use tissues (as oppose to your hand or a cloth handkerchief).
5. Routinely clean clothing and surfaces of your home - including childrens' toys.
6. Use proper cough etiquette - I teach this to my students at school.
7. Stay away from sick people and avoid large groups of people.
8. Use a water bottle instead of the water fountain.
9. Know the symptoms of Swine flu and seek medical attention if they present themselves.
10. If you didn't get a flu vaccine already this year, get one.
    

While there is no reason to panic, it certainly doesn't hurt to take preventative measures to keep ourselves and those around us healthy.

Please, keep Mexico (being the hardest hit population) in your prayers, as well as all those who are suffering either through sickness or the loss of a loved one.