Because

I just locked myself in the bathroom for about 20 minutes to bawl my eyes out. Because I somehow got caught on the wrong side of friend politics with one of my oldest and closest friends. Because I’m totally overwhelmed by life in general right now. Because I am hormonal. Because I’m facing a summer with no money with which to entertain my children and to be frank, I’m just not that creative. Because I just want one thing to go our way, and it’s not. Because my dad is dying. Because my son is struggling mightily with growing up and I don’t know how to help him. Because my daughter is sweet and amazing and I just cannot keep up with her right now and thus the guilt is nearly overwhelming. Because I haven’t had a day off in longer than is healthy for me. Because I miss my friends and I’m not entirely sure they miss me back (although that might be the hormones talking). Because the fucking wind will not stop. Because I can’t seem to stay on top of laundry. Because we didn’t get to plant flowers on Mother’s Day this year because of lack of money and the weather won’t settle into spring. Because our lawyer has turned into a jackass. Because I desperately want to ask my in laws to please come for a visit just to have fun and get to know their grandchildren and I’m terrified to ask because I couldn’t handle it if they say no, but I miss them. Because I’m tired and the sleepless nights have already started. Because I’m in a cooking rut I can’t seem to find my way out of. Because we got invited to a fancy party on Sunday night and I don’t have anything fancy to wear and no one to watch my children so they have to come with us to this party where there will probably be no other children and they also don’t have anything fancy to wear. Because my neighbor across the street is moving and I’m going to miss her and her children. Because, because, because, because…I guess I just needed a good cry.

What's Next?

So. I told you I was back and apparently I lied a little. But in my defense I have been thinking about writing a lot over the last couple of weeks. Trying to decide where I want to take my writing to be specific.

I miss writing the fiction over at 52 in 52, but I just have no time and very little energy to put into that endeavor right now. I know it will wait and hopefully one day soon I’ll get back into that particular groove as it was fun and interesting and I was learning a lot.

Here’s what I am not missing. I’m not missing scaling my writing, and thoughts, back to 365 words a day. And I’m also not missing having to write every single day. I still have a ton of stuff I want and need to write about, but I am just not feeling the everyday commitment need anymore. And perhaps that’s a good thing. Perhaps it’s exactly what I was waiting for with this whole 365 project. To reach a time where writing out my thoughts and stories came completely naturally and without self incrimination. I know now that when I need to write, I simply take the time to do it. So perhaps it’s entirely appropriate for me to let go of this particular project and begin a new one.

And that is what I’ve spent most of my time thinking about. I think one of the reasons I’ve not ever really reached a large audience is because my writing is so all over the place. I mean one day I am writing about totally benign things like my favorite TV shows, movies and food. While the next I’ve taken off on a journey of cuss-laden venting and spiritual/political/feminist/mothering pontification that send even my dearest friends reeling.

But I’d love to reach a larger audience. Mostly because I’m ready to put myself out there I think. I’m ready to broach the topic of community with a larger population sample. I’m just ready for more with my writing in pretty much every respect. Now I just have to figure out what that will look like. Any ideas?

Back Again

Alright, I’m back. I haven’t been writing, and I’m not going to apologize or make excuses for it. I needed a break from writing and from advertising my world and mess to the (teeny, tiny) masses of my readers I think. Life has just been piling it all thick as of late and I’m exhausted and sick and constantly on the verge of tears it seems. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, I can’t cry all the time right now because it just makes my head hurt worse than it already does from the hellish sinus infection that will not leave me alone until I am thoroughly battered and beaten.

I would like to just shut down and give up. I’d like to just retract and stop.

But I can’t. Because my children need me. Because my husband needs me. Because my Dad needs me. Because my friends need me.

So I’m going to force myself to keep tuning in. And to get back to writing every day. Even if it does go back to the 365 words a day of nonsensical, emotional babbling just to get it out of my head. Because I’ve got so much crap in my head right now I don’t even know where to start or what to do with it.

All I do know is if I don’t stay engaged, I will suffer and the people I love will suffer and that’s simply not acceptable. So hopefully I can figure out a way to simplify, so that I can tackle things one at a time in a way that makes sense. I know that I can’t stop the spinning and I certainly have no control over what the universe piles onto my plate, but maybe I can figure out a way to keep it from making me so dizzy.

I have no idea what that will look like, but I know I’m in need of some taking care of. I’ve been so focused on taking care of everyone around me that I’ve forgotten about me. And while taking care of the people I love is nourishing in and of itself, I need some recharge time.

Vacation Please

I think we all need a vacation. Seriously.

The Boy spiked a fever last night that persisted through the night. So my husband decided not to send him to school and to stay home himself to “help me with the kids.” What I think really happened is that my husband needed a day off and decided The Boy being sick was a good enough reason. Which is fine with me, it’s nice to just have a day with all four of us home and not having to have the crazy busy weekend routine. The Girl still went to school, although she wasn’t thrilled about toddling off to school while her brother and dada lay on the couch and watched cartoons.

I feel a little like I’m walking a razor’s edge. I mean I feel like I have been walking it for more than a year now so I’ve gotten pretty good at it, but that’s still where I am. I keep telling myself that walking along this thin line is just where I am right now and it’s ok. And it is, because it has to be. But if I let myself relax for even a moment I feel like my balance will go right out the window and I’ll fall to either side.

It would be such a relief to just be able to go away with my family and enjoy some time where we don’t have to worry about anything. We can put the cell phones down and walk away. We can look at our days from the perspective of what we want to do instead of what needs to be done. I would just really love to get away for a few days with my kiddos and my husband to reconnect and recharge with each other and ourselves.

I know that it won’t fix anything and won’t make anything different in the bigger scheme of things. But it would allow us to just be a family for a few days without all the baggage that has been added to our backs for the last 18 months.

We could all just really use a break, hopefully we’ll figure out how to take one.

4/19/10 - Parenting Hackles

I’ve read a couple of articles this week that have my parenting hackles way up.

One article is about raising daughters and how to handle the issues of body image. I think what has me so upset about it is the fact that the article does not even recognize that boys have extreme body image issues as well. And as a mother raising a son and a daughter I’ve got it from both sides. With both kids it’s a double whammy. Because I’ve got to figure out how to help them foster their own positive body image as well as how to support the people, regardless of gender, that they have in their lives. They both have to learn how to see people as they want to be seen – as the kind, compassionate, creative, intelligent, amazing people they are.

One article is about bullying. And this is an issue that is a tremendously loaded for me. I survived an abusive relationship while in high school and vowed to never again allow another human being treat me as anything less than what I felt I deserved. And that is also a very high priority for me to teach my children. Which is why this article pisses me off so much. Because essentially it’s saying that you should expect your child, regardless of age or gender, to be able to handle it themselves and that you should “praise them for suffering well.” If that fails to remedy the situation, then you could intercede on their behalf. I’m sorry, but are you frigging kidding me?!? There is no part of that that is acceptable to me. I will not accept my children facing bullies alone. And I sure as hell won’t accept teaching them to suffer well. I’m raising people, not martyrs here.

The root of both issues is self confidence. On every imaginable level. Honestly I don’t think I know anyone who has utter confidence on every level. So I’m setting a tall order for myself to be able to impart that to my children. But if I could just help them to see themselves as I do, I think we’ll be heading in the right direction.

Spring Love

I vacillate between spring and fall being my favorite seasons. Usually when spring rolls around after a long hard winter, it is automatically my favorite season. And then when fall finally breaks through the grinding heat of summer, it becomes very near and dear to my heart. But as I was driving home from NM on Friday, I was reminded once more of why spring is my favorite season.

When I was living in Nebraska during college it was, in so many ways, so much easier to mark the passing of the seasons by so much more than the weather. Because I was surrounded by farm and ranch land that was driven to life and death by every touch of weather as well as hands. And I distinctly remember driving through the country on the way to Lincoln at the very beginning of spring and watching the land wake was almost like watching a bruise heal. The bland, ashy, brown, dead fields would slowly start to yellow as the green started poking its head through the brown and then eventually it would yield to full and lush green for just a few days before it all got tilled under again and rendered rich, vibrant brown awaiting crops to start peeking and turn it all green again.

On Friday on the way home I found much the same thing. Except I knew the majority of the land that I could see yellowing would not be tilled under, but would continue through the greening process until it reached the faint sage color that the desert turns in the middle of summer. The brown in the desert is never really vibrant per say, but it is alive in its own steeped in history kind of way.

I love spring. I love watching the earth and the people wake back up after being cooped up inside for so long. I love watching the neighborhood kids swarm to any and all open yards to play whenever they can. I love strawberries and asparagus. I love the red that crosses my cheeks after standing in the sun for too long. I love the awakening and that joy that comes with it.

The Things That Go Unwritten

Why is it that there’re so many things nobody writes or talks about? Especially in regards to life changing events. After I had The Boy I remember making a long list about all the things that none of the books or my friends told me about pregnancy, child birth and motherhood. The same thing with marriage. And now, I’m finding it holds true with watching someone you love die as well.

There’s so much written about the grieving process. About the fear and the sadness and the guilt and the other well documented emotions that are typically found camped out around death. There’s less written about the process of watching someone die. But it’s still there. The process of watching the body shut down and everything that goes with that. There’s even a little bit written about how hard it is to watch someone you love diminish, decline, disintegrate, deteriorate and every other “d” word having to do with the state that occurs when one’s body betrays them and starts shutting down from the inside out.

But so far, I’ve not found much written about the horrors of the mind that come along through all of these processes. And there is so much bandying about in my mind that I just cannot hold onto anymore.

I cannot hold onto the images that float, unbidden, into my mind of my dad slowly mummifying from the inside out because his organs are giving up. The horrifically detailed pictures I have of his liver and lungs and heart slowly petrifying and then turning to dust as he wonders how to control the pain.

I cannot hold onto the guilt of wondering when my part in all of this will be done. When do I get to stop taking care of my parents?

I cannot hold onto the idea that this is all my job. That I have to be everything to everyone every time. Can I put down something down without that person or activity thinking I no longer care?

These are the things that make me feel alone. But like my Dad’s not the first dad to die of cancer, I have to know that I’m not.

4/8/10 - Seafood and Recap

My mom has been trying to do something nice for me. And I keep thwarting her efforts. Mostly because what she’s been trying to do requires the expenditure of money that’s just not necessary. But regardless, she’s starting to get irritated with me I think. So she’s taking me and the kids to dinner tonight. At Red Lobster. I’ve been craving seafood for weeks and it’s the only seafood restaurant in town so off we go.

My Dad had a doctor’s appointment today with his main doc to debrief and reassess after last weekend’s debacle as well as the doc being out of town for the last two and half weeks. The doc was irritated that everything was handled the way it was and was also irritated that his prescription of a gout medication made everyone assume that my Dad had been diagnosed with gout. I kind of wanted to tell him to either get over himself or else write better diagnostic notes in the file. But he’s also endeavored to mess about with my Dad’s meds, so we’ll see how it goes. He’s taking my Dad off the blood thinners so that he can switch him to anti inflammatories and is switching his pain med to a slow release pain patch instead of the every 4 hours morphine he had been on. I’m worried about taking him off the blood thinners as that opens him up to risks of heart attack and stroke. But hopefully the benefits outweigh the risks. And the doc said we’d know the benefits fairly soon, so if they don’t outweigh, then he’ll go back to the blood thinners. It’s all such experimentation at this stage, which I find utterly infuriating. I mean, my dad has to pay the price of his comfort so that the docs can figure all of this out, in a case that is not unique that they’ve all seen so many times before and still can’t get right. And when my Dad has little more than his comfort left, I tend to get my hackles raised when they start messing with it.

So I’m keeping my fingers crossed and looking forward to scallops this evening.

4/6/10 - 0 to 60

I feel like this pregnancy has taken me from 0 to 60. I know I’ve written about this before. Like last week I think. But seriously. I’m just so not accustomed to doing pregnancy at this kind of warp speed. Typically my pregnancies take a bit of time to ramp up. I sort of slowly start rounding (more than I already am that is). Mostly the things I’m feeling are entirely internal, i.e. fatigue, some nausea, aches and pains. It’s really not until about half way through that someone could look at me on the street and know that I was pregnant and not just falling prey to whatever holiday associated candy happens to be lining the aisles. I’m tall and I am blessed with breeder hips so I carry well and covertly until my belly literally just pops.

This time however, I knew almost immediately that I was pregnant. And here I am, only 12 weeks into this journey and I already look 20 weeks pregnant. There’s no mistaking this belly for chocolate bunny over indulgence.

And I’m sorry to keep going on and on about this. It’s just got me totally shocked. I am sure it’s just that this is the third baby and my body is ramping up more quickly because it’s done this before so successfully. It’s probably just totally in “Oh honey, I got this!” mode. Except for the fact that friends and family keep saying, without prompting, that I should get ready for twins. Or asking how the twins are doing. Or wondering if twins run in our families. It’s a strange thing that has me totally paranoid. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would welcome the opportunity to have twins. Yes, the idea of it scares me silly and puts in doubt my patience and sanity levels. But at the end of the day there’s some symmetry in it that I find really appealing and it would mean that I would get two sweet babies to snuggle with at once. But at this point, it’s all projection. Again, here I am projecting.

Back to the here and now. With my quickly growing belly and equally large curiosity.

4/5/10 - Projection

From a purely selfish point of view, I am so ready to go home I could scream. Everywhere I look I am surrounded by sickness. My Dad is doing a bit better, but still nowhere near 100% and at this point, I’m not sure he’ll ever get back there. This thing with the meds and everything that came with it has really dented him in a very real and lasting way I think. And it’s brought home how fragile he is getting. The Girl is starting to feel better, but is still coughing something fierce. The Boy has started coughing. And my Mom has been dealing with this weird vertigo thing for the last several days as well. I’m feeling fine and that puts me squarely in care taker mode for everyone in the house. I’m happy to do it; I’m well equipped to do it. I’m just tired.

I miss my home and everything that comes with it. So selfishly, I’m ready to let everyone fend for themselves so I can go home and bury myself in my down comforter. Knowing how much my family needs me right now, I’m doing laundry and dishes and cooking my family’s favorite stuff.

And I am coming to terms with the fact that the kids and I don’t get to go anywhere at all this week either. With the added expense of my speeding ticket, we’re seriously strapped until my husband gets paid again next week. So the kids and I are homebound. Which is never a wonderful prospect for any of our sanity. I’m praying for good weather and for the insane amount of wind that showed up today, to dissipate throughout the week. I’m hoping that we can get through this week without much screaming and kicking. I’m hoping that we can all just settle in, relax and have a good week.

And then I re-read this post and think, “jiminy Christmas, could I be throwing myself any further into the future?” Yeah. Time to reel it back in and just be here today. Tired. Worried. Missing my life. Uncomfortable. Ready for some ease. And tired. Did I mention tired? Oh yeah, and brain dead.

4/3/10 - Not a Good Day

My Dad’s doctors decided to start monkeying with his meds and now he is paying a high price for their experimentation. It’s so easy to blame them for his discomfort. It’s so easy to point fingers, especially at hospice, and demand that it be fixed. Because to watch my Dad suffer like he has today is by far the most horrible part yet of this whole process. My Dad has had increasing swelling and pain in his joints, particularly his elbow, knee and ankle joints. After some blood work it was decided that he had gout. Over the past week or so his pain and swelling has been getting really bad and they decided to up the gout medication they had him on. Worst. Decision. Ever.

He could hardly walk today. He was shaking so badly he couldn’t hold a water glass. He was in intense pain and his stomach was screwed beyond belief. He spent most of the day in bed. I spent most of the day shooing the children outside or into my mom’s yoga studio to play and watch TV just to get them out of the house. And worrying. There was lots and lots of worrying.

The Girl is not any better and I knew I should take her far away from my Dad, especially given his sudden turn for the worse. But I could not leave him like this. So I’m staying and keeping my fingers crossed that I don’t compound this by giving him her sickness.

My Mom has been on the phone off and on with the on call hospice nurse all day in amidst sitting with my Dad and getting him to drink as much as possible as they think the shaking and chills are coming from dehydration. I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table mostly, feeling helpless. And feeling that I maybe don’t want to be around for this part. As awful as that confession makes me feel and sound, I don’t know if I can sit and watch him suffer like this as the end draws nearer. And I don’t know if there’s room at his bedside for more than one. I just don’t know.

3/31/10 - A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

I recently finished a new book entitled A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. It’s a memoir he wrote almost 10 years ago about the time surrounding the deaths of his parents (both from cancer and within 5 weeks of each other) and how he took on the job of raising his younger brother at a relatively young age himself (he was about 22 and his brother was 9). It was a Pulitzer runner up and I’d remembered hearing really good things about it when it originally came out. And given my current proximity to cancer, I thought it might prove a good read. And it was, but I was exhausted by the time I finished it.

It was almost 500 pages of stream of consciousness. Given the fact that I’ve cranked out at least that many pages over the last 16 months of writing this blog, I have a certain affinity for stream of consciousness writing. But this was as if he had, at some point, sat down and in one sitting written the whole thing based on recollection and how his various neuroses happened to color those memories and the people within them. It was beyond raw. It almost felt unedited.

There were definitely pieces that I related to right about now. And there were pieces that just made me roll my eyes. There were pieces that made me laugh out loud as well as tear up. There were even some point where I seriously considered giving up and putting the book down. The writing is lovely and smart. I alternately thought about wanting to have a beer sometime with this author (if for nothing else than to have a voice to put with the words) and wanting to send him a check for therapy.

Altogether, I’m not entirely sure what I think of the book on a whole. While I’m not sure I would ever read it again, I’m very glad that I read it. It was nice to know, once again, that I am not alone in this parental cancer journey. Also? It’s really good to know that I’m not alone in some of my more neurotic/dramatic/silly/morbid thought processes.

3/25/10 - Gentle Day

I got to meet my Dad’s hospice nurse today. I’d talked to her on the phone a few weeks ago, but it was nice to put a face with the name. She’s super sweet and genuinely seems to like my Dad and vice versa. It was interesting to watch them talk and see everything that she keeps track of. I really had no idea what to expect. But she took all his vitals, counted out his meds to see what needed to be re-ordered and talked to him for quite a while about his pain levels and just in general how he was doing. It was nice to watch someone with him whose entire reason for being here was to support him. To do anything and everything she could to make and keep him comfortable and see that his needs were being met. There was no distraction or agenda; she was fully and completely here with him while she was here. It made me happy to see and it was also nice to get an objective evaluation of how he is doing. Because it’s really easy to get dragged down into the daily pill monitoring, the ever vigilant watching of his every wince and sigh, wondering when his body will finish this betrayal it has perpetuated upon him and everyone who loves him. It’s easy to allow yourself to sink into the drama and trauma of the whole thing, to lose perspective. So a dose of objectivity does wonders for tempering what the mind will talk you into.

And I think if I can pry The Girl out of her favorite princess nightgown, that will one day soon be permanently melded to her skin, I might take the kiddos into town for a little treat this afternoon since Dad is taking a nap and I’d like to get them away from the TV. I’ve spent the majority of the day making my Mom CD’s, catching up on writing and writing Easter/thank you cards to The Sisters and my cousin D for their lovely trip here. It’s been a nice easy day. The sun is out, the wind isn’t blowing. It feels like a gentle day.

3/24/10 - Growth Spurt

There must be twins in there. Good God. I’m now 10 weeks along and I am officially out of all my regular pants. Even my great big jeans that I typically cannot wear without a tightly cinched belt are too tight. I am noticeably showing which I think shocks me more than anything because I’m not a small woman. So it typically takes me a bit longer to really look pregnant instead of just “fluffy” around the middle. But there is a bump. Staring back at me in the mirror. Making my shirts poke out in strange ways and buttoning my jeans make me gasp for breath.

And I’m still feeling pretty good. Although I think I can tell when this kid is going through growth spurts because there is a marked change in my appetite and level of fatigue. I mean, I’m pretty much tired all the time, don’t get me wrong, but the last day or so I’m falling asleep if I sit still for longer than 2 minutes. And things go downhill fast if I don’t eat the minute I notice I’m hungry. Like break out in a cold sweat, come close to fainting in the middle of Target, shaking violently downhill.

It’s a strange limbo though. There is a part of me that knows that I’m pregnant, that is still doing cartwheels with excitement. And then there is the part of me that is so wrapped up here with my kids and my Dad that I keep forgetting there’s a little bean in there and that yes, it’s entirely appropriate for me to eat several times a day and that I must remember to drink more water. But ultimately it just adds a nice shining light to the overall peace I’m in right now. Which is definitely a big bonus to be sure. I know that the peace I’m so grateful for right now could shift at any moment if I let it. Could easily be eaten again by anger or impatience. So I’m hoping between the two that perhaps they can support each other, give each other strength and perseverance. To keep growing and blossoming in their own gorgeous ways.

3/23/10 - Gratitude for Acceptance

What a lovely day. My Mom took the kids for some good old fashioned Nana/grandchildren quality time and I spent the day with my Dad. I had to follow him into town so that he could drop his truck off to get the brakes fixed (finally!). But mostly we just spent the day alternately chatting and reading. We talked about all sorts of stuff from fluffy chitchat stuff to how the kids were doing with the new knowledge of his impending death to how he was doing with his impending death. It was such a lovely day. And it was a day that I could not have had with him even a month ago.

I think I had to go away for a couple of months to do my own work. To trudge through the deep anger I had. To make peace with the denial and fear of facing my life and the world without my Dad. Now I am able to sit with him, as his daughter, and talk or just be in silence. And I cannot tell you what that means to me. After 33 years, there is finally peace in our relationship. There is understanding, love and acceptance for who we both are and what we had to experience to get here. I mean, I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Even when I was so angry at him I could hardly see straight, I was a Daddy’s girl. But through the internal work we have both done over the past couple of months, our relationship has reached a new level.

There is a tremendous amount of freedom in this acceptance. Freedom to cry at the beauty of his life and all that he’s given. Freedom to celebrate this man who played such a gigantic role in shaping who I am and who my children are. Freedom to laugh as things arise regardless of how irreverent or inappropriate that laughter may be and because we’d both rather laugh than cry. And while I would do almost anything to be able to take this revelation far into the future with my Dad, I plan on making every single second I have with him count.

The Price of Raw

When I started this blog a little over a year ago, I never really thought anyone would read it. Or at the very most I thought I’d have a few consistent readers, you know, people like my mom, maybe friends who I don’t get to see very often (and I was pretty much right). But that’s about it. I mean who wants to stick around for a 365-word-a-day snapshot of one woman’s life, regardless of how colorful her language is. I wasn’t doing it so that it would get read. I was doing it so that I could make myself write every day. It was just about the writing. It also turned out to be an incredible outlet for me during the hardest year of my life. A way to process an incredibly complicated and painful time of my life that simply could not be overlooked.

Probably the most consistent piece of feedback I’ve gotten on this blog is that it is raw. The emotions, the language, the situations. All of it is raw. And I’ve been called courageous and inspiring for being willing to air that rawness to the outside world. Now, I don’t know how courageous or inspirational I am, but I do know that raw was (is?) the only way for me to be. There’s just been too much to polish. Too much to try to hide or shirk or simplify.

For the most part, I’ve not let myself get too bogged down in worrying about what I put out there. Because as I said, I am not writing it because I need people to read it. So why should I give a shit what they think of it? And I don’t. Except for today I got dealt a sucker punch to the gut. Today I got handed down a sweeping judgment of myself, my life and my family. And it came in large part because of what I write here. Amidst the adrenaline fueled anger that I’ve been feeling all day, is also a deep sadness. Sadness that through everything I’ve written, expressed and learned over the last 15 months, that all they gleaned from it was a chance to judge.

Travel Plans and Reminders

Our trip to NM has been delayed yet again. This time by weather. My parents got a big snowstorm last night and it appears that same storm is on its way here as our sunny day deteriorated into flurries and freezing temps. So now I’m shooting for a Saturday departure. It’s supposed to warm up again by Friday so a day of sun should give the passes time to melt and return to asphalt. Plus it gives me more time to finish laundry, get audio books and pack. As well as letting The Boy finish out the week of school since he’ll be missing two weeks of school which makes me a little nervous. And hopefully The Girl will go to school again tomorrow morning. I say hopefully because her eye is red and now I’m all paranoid about her having pink eye after her teacher made a huge deal out of it.

And this whole, “we’re having another baby” thing is now really real. Not that it hasn’t been. But with my OB appointment yesterday, we officially let the cat out of the bag and have been spreading the good news far and wide. Now that people know, it gives the whole thing a bit more of a tangible feel. Well that and the fact that I’m sitting here in maternity pants because my burgeoning belly is sizing me out of almost all of my pants.

After thinking about it for a while, the best thing about going to see my OB yesterday was that she was excited with me, chatty and did not even once mention my weight. I gained some weight over the holidays what with all the cooking I was doing for my dad and then I got knocked up before I could get it off again. So I’m starting this pregnancy a bit heavier than I’d like. But not once did my doctor say anything about that. Reminding me that she trusts my body to gain whatever weight it needs to grow a healthy baby. Reminding me that what’s important here is the new little fuzzhead that will be joining our family, not what size I am. I needed that.

Good News to Share!

I’ve got some good news to share, finally. I am pregnant! I had my first OB appointment today and everything is where it should be and looking perfectly healthy, happy and on track. Although my doctor got my heart beating a bit when she wanted to do an ultrasound immediately following my exam because she thought I might have twins in there. But there’s just the one little bean, that we could see anyway. She said that it was possible there was another bean hiding behind the first one, but she didn’t think so. We’ll know for certain as I get farther along I suppose. I’m due mid-October, which I’m not exactly sure why I thought was a good idea. Since I swore that I would never, ever do my third trimester in the middle of summer after The Boy. And here I am, doing it again. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a cool summer, or for my husband to get a raise so that we can afford me to have the air conditioning running full tilt for three solid months.

Speaking of my husband, he’s ecstatic. He would have been telling people several weeks ago if I’d have let him. He’s convinced it’s a boy and he’s already got the kid named. I keep trying to tell him that it doesn’t even know what it is yet. But he doesn’t seem to care.

I think we will wait until I’m showing a bit to tell the kids so they have something more tangible to focus on. Although I think that will probably be sooner rather than later with this one as every single pair of my pants are already uncomfortably tight, which is mildly infuriating. But at least I get to change up my wardrobe now. Granted, it’s with the introduction of maternity clothes, but still, they are clothes I haven’t worn in almost 4 years.

And I’m excited. Really excited. Thrilled that it finally happened before I lost my dad. Thrilled at the prospect of a new little person entering our family. Just keeping my fingers crossed for a healthy baby and an easy pregnancy. Cross yours with me, would you?

Going with the Flow

Day three of fever watch with The Girl. Yeah, I’m done with it now. She woke up at about 2am last night throwing up and her fever had started to soar. So my husband spent the rest of the night on the floor of her bedroom while I tossed and turned, convinced that every single noise was her seizing or throwing up.

Her temperature has continued to volley around, keeping us all on our toes. The Girl goes from relatively cool one minute and almost back to herself to screaming hot and listless the next. And more than anything that’s what has me worried. Because it’s the rapid rise of fever that causes febrile seizures, not necessarily how high it goes. And her fever is all over the place, rising and falling pretty rapidly. When The Boy had this it only lasted about 24 hours, so I thought we’d definitely be in the clear with The Girl by yesterday afternoon. Not so much apparently.

So, now I’m tired and still no closer to getting down to NM. I’m so scared that by the time we finally get down there that my dad won’t be my kids’ Papa anymore. He’ll be just a physical shell of the man they adore and look up to. I don’t want them to remember him that way, frail and dissipated. I want The Boy to remember tying flies and learning about nature. I want The Girl to remember reading stories and seeing the beauty of the desert through her Papa’s eyes. And perhaps I’m over-reacting, but the picture my mom has painted of my dad’s current state is not a pretty one. Even if it does change on a daily basis.

So I suppose this post is more of a vent than anything purposeful. I’m tired and scared and frustrated. I’m doing my best to just go with the flow and be as present as possible. I’m just tired of feeling like the flow is always going against me. That me going with the flow actually means just accepting that life is just hard right now. That the flow means learning to accept the fear and anger in the present.

3/6/10 - Anger

I think that anger takes two basic forms. Those which are situational, the “I can’t believe you just did that to me!” types of anger. More like bursts of fury. They fade relatively quickly and usually don’t have much to do with anything except the offending person or thing.

Then there is the anger that is rooted in who we are. Rooted somewhere deep enough that it can’t be so easily let go of or dismissed. Rooted somewhere solid enough that it takes years maybe even a lifetime to be able to put it down and direct our energy into something more positive.

And I’ve been going round and round with the latter as of late. There is this anger that is rooted in my childhood. That is connected to my parents and that has been flying in my face as of late in response to the fact that my father is dying and everything that comes with that. You would think that the hardest part would be the issues related directly to my dad. Those that come from the fact that he was gone for a lot of my early childhood. Those that come from the fact that he’s not an emotionally ebullient man and always left me guessing as to my place in his heart. Those that come from the fact that he had exceptionally high expectations for me that I struggled, and often failed, to meet.

But instead, and probably harder than all of those combined, the anger that is arising is with my mother. Perhaps that’s because she’ll still be here and is therefore the safer candidate at which to vent anger. Or perhaps, losing my father is just opening the floodgates to that deeply seated anger that has been dormant for so long. I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s making it extremely difficult for me and my mom right now. And I’ve yet to find the words to explain it all to her without her feeling like I’m just attacking her. And if I want to one day be able to truly let go of this anger, I must first find a way to express it.