WeWriWa - March 27, 2016 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods

On last week's installment of Weekend Writing Warriors, we were in the throes of the Emergency Room excitement in Vicenza, Italy when the life of an unborn baby hung in the balance. Welcome to this eight-sentence snippet. To get back to the other Weekend Writers, click here!  

A favorite Italian restaurant, Il Fauno's -- wonderful waitstaff, great food, and
an American toilet!! 

After a quick, burning shot to stop the contractions and a tub of progesterone capsules to insert nightly, we were released. These people who didn’t even speak my language had just saved the life of my unborn child. “What did the doctor say before he left,” I asked our nurse as she walked us to the front doors of the hospital.

The view from the villa where we lived

The view from the other side of the villa

Our Texan kitchen in Italy

Her lips tilted into a half-smile. “He said Americans and their modesty . . . do they not understand that there is no modesty in life and death?”

I locked eyes with my husband and blinked back unwelcome tears 

as I remembered my nurse's words. No modesty in life and death. I 

wish I had asked her if dignity followed the same rule.

Our chilly villa where I was on bed rest for four weeks following the ER incident. 

April 14th -- the rebirth date of my debut novel, A Heart on Hold. Cover reveal time!!! 

The Sonogram - March 20, 2016 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods - WeWriWa

Welcome back for this Weekend Writing Warriors edition of Missi Wanderin' in the Woods. 
Weekend Writing Warriors is where a wonderful group of authors, from prepublished to multipublished, share eight-to-ten sentences from one of their works. We welcome critique, observations, and any other comments from blog readers! Find them here!!
We left off in the Italian Emergency Room, where we just learned Sara's (well, my) baby was still alive -- unlike what the Army doctors said. Adrenaline still surging, let's see what happened next. 

Before the words were out of the nurse's mouth, the doctor had the internal probe inserted and located the source of the problem. He spouted off a slew of musical Italian words and, though I didn’t understand what he said, I understood the soft tones of relief that colored them.

“The placenta is detaching,” she relayed, her eyes still on the screen. A fast little heartbeat 

 pounded in perfect rhythm from the speakers. “See the blood clot there? Your body tries to fix it, to save precious bambino.” 

The doctor rattled off something else and patted my naked thigh before disappearing.

Charlie stammered from the other side of the table. “Did um -- well, our -- did we cause this?”

“No," the nurse smiled, "but no more having the sex, okay?”

Researching some pictures to go along with this excerpt, I was glad to find this article. 

That horrific "birthing center" on the American military base in Vicenza has shuttered its doors. This was the establishment that gave me the advice to "let the miscarriage happen naturally" and that it was "God's will". 

WeWriWa - 8/15/15 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods - The Italian ER

Welcome back to this week's ten-sentence snippet from MISSI WANDERIN' IN THE WOODS. Click here if you would like to be a part of my blog tour for my forthcoming Amish Western, Old Amarillo, September 4-11, courtesy of Loving the Book blog tours. I would be honored to be hosted by my WeWriWa friends! Find my launch party on the 3rd of September here!

Without further ado, let's see what's in store for Sara and Charlie and the baby they may have already lost . 

I bit back a sob. “I understand, but I’d really like a sonogram to be sure.”

“Go on about your business and if you’re still cramping Tuesday, come into the walk-in clinic. After all, you’re just ten weeks along.”

Too upset to talk anymore, I handed the phone off to Charlie, slunk to the bedroom, and buried my head in the pillow. The next morning after dropping the kids off at the on-post childcare facility, Charlie packed me into our pink and purple Volkswagen Beetle – Pink Floyd edition and took me to the Italian Emergency Room, or l’ospedale.

The nurse pulled us back first, before the patients sitting in the strap-backed wheelchairs and through the jungle of glass bottles that dangled from threatening IV poles that would have looked more at home in a 1960’s mental institution, and into a room no larger than a humble office with wood paneling and magazine pictures of wolves taped onto the wall. A small exam table sat off to the side, almost out of place amid the tangle of books and misbegotten papers. The doctor, who hadn’t looked up from his work since we walked in, mumbled something in Italian before turning around expectantly.

     “Strip now,” the nurse translated brusquely, “waist down.” 

Thank you for popping by. Follow this link to get back to the other contributors for the weekly Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop where authors in all phases of publication post eight to ten sentences of the work of their choice and add their link so that readers may enjoy their work. Comments from others are what make this something we all look forward to each week, so feel free to let those fingers fly and tell how you feel about this and all of our snippets! 

WeWriWa -August 2, 2015 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods

Welcome back! Last week, we got a peek into soldier Charlie's softer side when he insisted they go back to the Italian pound and adopt the twin brother of the little dog we'd just given a home. 

Thoughts of our puppies fizzled as I glanced from my ring to his haggard face and rested my hands on my belly again. Charlie seemed to read my thoughts. “I am so, so sorry Sara, I love all of you, Lil’ Grub, too.”

Emotion threatened to choke me as I remembered the night we almost lost our baby. I was ten weeks along and we’d just made love. I went to the restroom to get ready for bed and discovered I was bleeding. Big black clots trailed by bright red blood covered the bottom of the tiny European toilet. I called for Charlie through a veil of tears. 

Follow this link to get back to the rest of the amazing Weekend Writing Warriors.

WeWriWa - July 26, 2015 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods/ Sara and Charlie

Welcome back everyone! Last week we left Sara, scared and pregnant in the Volkswagen. Let's delve a bit deeper into her mind today.

My mind wandered back to our family, aside from our children. We had visited the Italian version of animal control, the canile, in hopes of adopting a family pet and left with one of two twin puppies of unknown lineage. We promptly named our new girl, who looked to be a mix between an Italian Greyhound and a border collie, Rosie Giulietta. Rosie for Caillou’s little sister and Giulietta for Juliet, the most famous Italian. 

After arriving home to our rented two story villa in Arcugnano, the little mountain town just outside of Vicenza at the base of the Dolomite Mountains, it was Charlie who insisted we go back for her brother, the little black and white puppy with the floppy black ears. “I can’t stand the thought of him being in there and missing his sister, and they’re so young . . . plus, we are able to give them both a home, and it would make them happy. Let’s go back and get him tomorrow.” That is how Rosie’s brother, Romeo, came to live with us.

Thank you for stopping by! To get back to the amazing WeWriWa bloghop contributors here!

Follow Sara's trail of trouble over at her website: www.sarabarnardbooks.com 

Come check out the Prairie Rose Publications Christmas in July and Fandango! Join the event here! All books 26 books are only .99  or if a duet, 1.99. Look for The Bank Robber's Lament, by me! <3 

WeWriWa - July 18, 2015 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods - What's Next for Charlie and Sara?

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors bloghop and this week's eight to ten sentence snippet from a published, pre-published, or work-in-progress (or WIP). We are making our way through the first chapter of my forthcoming memoir, Missi Wanderin' in the Woods. 

Last week, Charlie confessed that he'd been tossed out of the Army shrink's office for being honest and telling the psychiatrist exactly what he was thinking . . . scroll down and check out the last couple of entries for that little gem . . . and what earned him an MP escort out of that office, along with an invitation NOT to return.  Let's see what happens next. 


He chuckled again as my grim expression transformed to a half-smile. Without meaning to, I let go a little laugh, followed by a bigger one. Before either one of us could make sense of the sudden onslaught of jocularity, it was there, just as real as either of us and filling the car with much needed comic relief. Tears streamed down our faces as we gasped for breath before becoming tickled all over again at our cacophony of funny whoopings and whistlings and snorts.

As our laughing jag faded away, Charlie started our car – a pink and purple Volkswagen Golf, Pink Floyd Edition – as the stark reality of our situation settled over me like a cloud of buzzards over a rotting carcass. Here I was in Italy, pregnant, so far from home, and with my two precious babies to protect. I had a husband, fresh from combat and already exhibiting irrational, self-medicating behavior, who had just managed to get himself blacklisted from the only psychiatrist within reasonable driving distance. Just. By. Being. Honest. 

Thank you for stopping by for this week's snippet of military madness. To get back to the other WeWriWa bloghop participants, follow this link. Thanks for stopping by and be sure to pop over to my Amish blog, Sara's Amish Dreams, for a cover reveal!