Record Of Respite Expense: Fill & Download for Free

Recording of V2K voices would be of no help unless source device is tracked and the stalker is identified. You can counter the frequencies operated with by the stalkers, by EMF blockers. Remember, a little effort can help you to change your resonant frequencies of the brain. So once you are able to change them and block those frequencies to be operated by the stalker, you can get some relief. But this will involve expenses on electronic devices and installations. But if the stalker has covert approval by local authorities for surveillance , he can start V2K harassment over again. You can not get respite even after reporting to local Law Enforcement or court. So try easy methods (including electronic ones) to get relief.

“Can I have your breakfast?” went over like a fart in a spacesuit with both the expectant mother and the midwives…My wife was due to report to the maternity suite at our chosen hospital later that very morning to be induced for the birth of our first rugrat, she being two weeks overdue of the scheduled launch date. However, as is so often the case, she went into spontaneous labor at home around 2am. She had a contraction or two and was keen to wait it out for a while to see if the contractions stopped or became more frequent. I sat with her on the edge of the bed being encouraging and holding her hand and so on, privately praying that she didn’t break her waters in the marital bed and ruin the new mattress, and looking for an opportunity to go put the kettle on. I was well aware of the prevailing wisdom I’d gained from old black and white movies where the husband was routinely ordered by the midwife to go and boil water, and suggested to my wife that this seemed the thing to do, particularly given that it was Very Early and I was reluctant to appear heartless and simply confess that I could really have done with a nice hot mug of fresh coffee. She responded in terms that would make a sailor’s parrot blush, which I found somewhat selfish given she clearly wasn’t having any trouble staying awake.Around 4am I managed to create a diversion during a lull in the screaming by letting the dog in, and was able to both quickly put the kettle on and locate and secrete up my sleeve a flat-bladed screwdriver which I knew I’d need, as the contractions became more frequent, to prize her fingernails out of the fleshy part of my hands and arms. To my great disappointment, I’d no sooner returned to the bedroom with my coffee, got the dog off the bed and put him back in the laundry, when she suddenly declared that now was the time to move to the hospital. This developing self centered attitude was wearing a little thin to be honest, but did I complain? Not on your life. I helped her out to the car, then dashed quickly back inside to grab a thermal mug for the coffee under the pretext that she’d need her slippers and dressing gown and off we went.Never being one to miss an opportunity, I drove like a man possessed, secure in the knowledge that as long as I stayed at less than 20mph over the speed limit no traffic cop would write me a ticket if I was pulled over. I thought I’d lighten the mood a little by relaying this to the cheese-and-kisses, but she was determined not to see the funny side of anything. Some women just don’t get guy humor I guess.Well, we made it to the hospital, parked in the ambulance bay and I trotted inside to grab a wheelchair or a stretcher or something. I asked the night shift nurse in the casualty ward if she had any idea where the wheelchairs were, and when I gave her a short rundown of the situation she looked very concerned, at least that’s what I put her frowning down to. More a glare, really. It crossed my mind that she was being a little judgmental at my having grabbed a quick coffee and a Mars bar from the vending machines before I spoke to her, but realized it had probably just been a long night for her. Thankfully a couple of male orderlies turned up fairly smartly with the chair, and once I’d placated the ambulance crew who had parked right in front of the car (and refused to move it! Some people…) we had the wife on her way to the birthing suite. It was a great relief to me to have her finally safe and secure in the birthing room, particularly given she’d taken the same condescending attitude as the casualty nurse to the coffee and Mars bar. Self, self, self. I even offered her a bite, and the look she gave me would have frozen water. You’d have thought she could have used a bit of humor to lighten the mood, but it just wasn’t looking like my night at all when it came to a bit of comic relief.Given she had a couple of nurses as sympathetic company, putting drips in and hooking her up to various expensive machines that went ‘ping’ every so often, I thought I’d see if I could rustle up a couple of old dog-eared copies of Women’s Weekly for her to take her mind off things or maybe even a deck of cards so we could play a quick game of rummy or something. Lousy timing though, the screams from her room were making it hard to concentrate on anything much so I thought I’d better stick my head around the door and see how things were going on the new arrival front. So anyway, I did the right thing and once again offered my bare forearms to her eagle like talons, I even took out the earplugs when she noticed them and asked me to. More told, really. You’d think that once someone tells you to take out a pair of earplugs that they’d see the contradiction in then continuing to scream at you once you’ve done what they said. I swear I will never understand women. I suppose childbirth does make them a bit loopy. The nurse said something about her being fully diluted, the IV bags still looked pretty full to me but at times like this you have to put your trust in the people that are supposed to know what they’re doing.Well, long story short, the sun was finally up and the wife seemed to be getting a bit of respite between contractions and even dozing off a bit so I thought I’d go for a quick recce in the hallways. They say good things come to those who wait and blow me down if, barely ten minutes after I’d sat down in the corridor, one of the domestics came toddling along with a trolley full of hot breakfasts! I assured her that yes, my wife was in fact in labour on the other side of the very door outside of which I sat although she seemed to be quite some way from actually popping him out and would greatly benefit from a tray full of bacon, fried eggs, fried tomatoes, toast and coffee. And yes, that’s very kind of you, I would love to have one for myself as well. Well, I was barely halfway through my tray when the wailing started up again. On the principle that what they don’t know won’t hurt them and having been brought up to waste not want not, I polished off the rest of it and sauntered in as casual as you like with her breakfast which was still fairly warm, expecting to be greeted with God-bless-yous and the like but the drugs were obviously wearing off because she looked seriously ungrateful.All I ask is walk a mile in my shoes for a minute. She had clearly lost her appetite, I’d been up since oh-dark-hundred tending to her every need, doing whatever I could think of to cheer her up, I was still starving hungry and let’s face it, she obviously didn’t want the thing so I asked what seemed the perfectly reasonable question, “Well, do you mind if I have your breakfast then?”You would be shocked - I know I was - at how far a woman lying in bed can hurl a stainless steel bedpan, although fortunately not very accurately. The clattering noise and the screaming had the effect of waking the baby back up again, because she suddenly made a noise that was much more primal than before and a couple of nurses came running in to take over. I knew an opportunity when I saw one and exited stage left with the brekky tray before the missus’ aim got better and she knocked over the orange juice or something.For the record, I got back into the delivery room in plenty of time to see the little bugger make his appearance all sticky and screaming and healthy. He’s 34 years old now, and for some reason he never found the story very funny. Must take after his mum I reckon.

I married and a year later had a child. The marriage ended when she was four years old. That was the beginning of 26 years of single parenting though I had no idea at the time. At first, life seemed easier because I knew what I was coming home to, who I had to make meals for and what my income and expenses were. Married life had been erratic, unpredictable and cost me my good credit record and thousands of dollars. I had made a bad choice.Juggling a full time job, trips to pre-school, shopping, banking, and a teeny tiny social life was exhausting. My ex and I made our daughter’s well-being a priority so that entailed regular communication and trial and error custody arrangements. It seemed like an endless battle to make everything work and keep my head above water. I played hard when she was at her dad’s. When she was back with me, I was Super Mom!My family lived thousands of miles away so support from family was very limited. My mom did fly out to give me a weeks holiday, many years later, when I had a second child. One holiday in 26 years was likely par for the course as a single parent.I remember the pressure, the never ending responsibilities, the feelings of inadequacy, the scrutiny by the neighbours. Husband number two had lasted less than three months so I was the talk of the neighbourhood for a while. All the neighbours knew to call 911 if he drove down our street. It was like living in a fish bowl! I needed their surveillance so that I could do what I needed to do and feel safe but there was a price to pay. The phone would ring and then I’d go on high alert until he drove away.Then there was the day that is etched in my memory for the rest of my life. I had just gotten home from picking up the youngest from daycare. I was upstairs changing out of my work clothes. The door bell rang. The two girls answered the door. I ran downstairs as this wasn’t supposed to happen. Stranger danger and all that that ensues! Already in a flap, I turned right at the bottom of the stairs and died a thousand deaths. There was a policeman in uniform, standing in the front doorway. He was cheerfully engaging my girls in conversation. Apparently someone had called the Ministry of Children and Families and made a report. I was accused of strangling the youngest. Dear God! Fortunately the policeman could see for himself that my little one was just fine. I explained the circumstances of my estranged ex and he quietly left.My life was one adventure after another due to the stress of that ex. Eventually I took the girls and moved away, telling the neighbours that I was moving to Hawaii. It worked and we had peace in our new city. Sad to say, it was not in Hawaii.Christmas’s were a nightmare. When my eldest stayed with her father, alternate years, I would cry for hours. On the years that I had her with me, Christmas was fun and very precious. It was either heaven or hell. There was no in-between.If anyone of the three of us got sick, life was even more challenging. I would not abandon a sick child so my pay would suffer. As she recovered, I would hire child care in our home so I basically lost income whichever way it worked out. If I was sick, then I couldn’t get the youngest to daycare so I had a little one to care for, while kneeling on the floor, in front of the throne. I existed on only a few hours of sleep. Those were really difficult times. Like most families, with children in school, there are colds, flus, chicken pox, roseola, strep throat infections and upset tummies. As a nurse, it seemed that I always had that added responsibility of making the right call. Do we see the doctor? Do we ride this bug out? Do I go to work and hire a babysitter? Do I stay home for a day or two? Which over-the-counter med might work? Decisions decisions. They drove me crazy!My guardian angel sent me a friend named Ron. When I was at my wits end, he would arrive on his trusty steed, his Kawasaki motorcycle. I’d call a neighbour for an hour or two of respite. Ron would drive to the woods and I’d sit on a log by myself. He would go for a walk. In the forest, amongst all those negative ions, I would breathe life and truly relax. The trees and the plants nourished my soul. After 30 minutes or so, Ron would take me home. I would be refreshed and able to carry on. We never dated or were more than friends but he was a life-saver to me. Heaven sent!Eventually, I lived in a city and attended a church where there was a single mothers’ support group. By this point in time, I just had one daughter living at home. Though I attended for personal support, my many years of single parenting made me a resource for all of the other ladies attending. Life got easier without the abusive ex disturbing our peace.Every single parent earns a crown, a rose and a graduation diploma cum laude. We are warriors at heart, mother bears protecting our young, defiant, resilient and shining stars.My babies today. I’m a proud momma bear!photo by Darlene Davies