May 21, 2009

Over at The Imperfect Parent…

I’m talking about my mojo.  I’ve lost mine.  Click here to read more.

March 26, 2009

Work vs. Motherhood Redux

I’m over at the Imperfect Parent today, talking about work, motherhood, pregancy and stereotypes.  Check it out!

October 16, 2008

It Happens Every Time (But This Day Is Different)

Before I continue with my planned post, I wanted to remind you that I’m over at The Imperfect Parent today. If you have a few moments, will you please visit me there, too?  Thank you, kindly!

The last few months have been miserable.  I’ve said it all before.  I don’t want to rehash all the emotions, but it’s constantly on my mind, this baby business.

Yesterday I stopped to count the months, the many long months, that my husband and I have been trying to conceive a second child.  Today marks the end of the eighteenth month of trying.  The end, because my period started this morning.

A few days ago, I thought for sure that I was pregnant.  I had all the “symptoms.”  Sore breasts, bloating, exhaustion, frequent urination, night sweats, nausea, headaches, stuffy nose, moodiness and irritability, heightened sense of smell, increased appetite.

However, I knew in my heart that it was just another phantom pregnancy, that I was just obsessing about it all and therefore my body was playing tricks on me.  Or it was all the beginning of monster PMS.

And still, I drove to the store and bought a pregnancy test.  I went so far as to say a prayer before peeing on the fucking thing, thinking a miracle could impact the results.  Even though I thought I was pregnant, I knew that yesterday’s HPT would turn out the way the last seventeen did.

Just like every month before, the negative line appears and 24 hours later my period begins.  It happens every time.

Then the devastation and disappointment set in.  The crying ensues.  The frustration and anger sweep in and take over.  The bitter jealousy follows closely behind.  The vicious cycle continues and I’m helpless to stop it.

I want more children so badly that it’s all I can think about, dream about, hope for.

I’ve been in a funk and it’s beginning to evolve into a depression.  I accused my husband of jinxing us because maybe he doesn’t want this as much as I do.  I’ve blamed myself for being reproductively broken.  I’ve even looked in the mirror and berated myself for being a failure.

I didn’t go to church last Sunday because I didn’t want to stare at all the adorable pregnant women and wonder why God has granted their wishes and not mine.

Instead, I read passages in the Bible and tried to swallow this jagged little pill.  I’ve tried to put these thoughts out of my head.  I’ve avoided speaking about it with my friends and family because I don’t think they understand, nor do I think they want to hear about my “problem” anymore.

Then today, something wonderful happened.  I attended my bimonthly MOPS meeting.

I must confess that I didn’t want to go.  At my first meeting two weeks ago, I struggled.  There were many mothers in the group who were expecting, and others who were nursing their babies during the focus groups.  It was hard to think happy thoughts and not be overcome by grief and jealousy, but I managed.

Knowing the wound would be opened again, I told myself last night that I wasn’t going.  I didn’t have faith that I could deal with my issues.  Then I dropped Dawson off at preschool this morning and one of the other MOPS moms has a child in Dawson’s class.

“On your way to the meeting?” she asked.

“Ummm…I dunno.  I’ve got a lot of work to do at home…”

“Come on,” she cut me off.  “You don’t want to miss today’s speaker.  She’s inspirational.”

Even though I told myself it would take more than some inspirational woman sharing her life story to shake me out of my depression, I agreed to attend.  I prayed silently in the car for God to grant me the strength to stifle whatever emotions decided to flow out of me upon seeing all the babies.

The meeting started and our speaker, Jessica, was introduced to our group.  Jessica told us she had been a featured speaker at many women’s groups and her message that day was about how to find hope when things don’t go our way.

I admit, I was skeptical.  It was oh so coincidental that things in my life were definitely not going my way.  How did Jessica think she was going to help me, I wondered.  Does she even know anything about me?  Does she know that I’m struggling?  Does she know about my history with PCOS?  Does she know it took three years to conceive Dawson, or that I had a miscarriage when Dawson was 11 months old?  Does she know that I’m losing faith that I’ll ever get pregnant again?

My bitterness was swallowing me whole, but no sooner than these thoughts flowed from my consciousness did I realize how wrong I was about Jessica.

She told us about her marriage to her husband, Gary, and how they celebrated their 27th wedding anniversary.  She told us that after she and Gary were married they had a honeymoon baby, a boy, and a daughter 18 months after that.  She always knew she wanted more than two children, but after her daughter was born she had many miscarriages.

One day she was driving home from picking her children up from school on a terrible winter’s day.  It had rained and the rain froze, then it snowed on top of that.  She hit a patch of ice and her car swerved into oncoming traffic.  She hit a semi head on.  Her son, her oldest child, was killed instantly.  She and her daughter suffered several injuries.  Her son was 7 years old.  Her daughter was 5 1/2.

Hearing Jessica’s words, I began to cry.  As tears streamed down my cheeks, Jessica continued.   She talked about how painful it was to lose her son, but she also told us she was 10 weeks pregnant during the accident but no one else knew but her husband.  After all the miscarriages she was afraid to tell anyone about the pregnancy because she figured she’d lose that baby, too.  Especially after the tragic accident resulting in her son’s death.

Jessica talked about how her daughter went from being the youngest child, to an only child and then to the oldest child all in a year’s time.  She never expected to have a seven year age gap between her daughter and the baby boy she had seven months after the car accident.  She went on to have three more children after that.

I began sobbing.   Sobbing because I realized I was meant to be at this meeting.  God wanted me to hear Jessica speak.  He enlisted the help of my friend to make sure I heard what Jessica had to say.

Jessica told us that she learned to rearrange her priorities after the accident.  She began renewing her faith in God and putting Him first in her life, before her husband and children.  She realized that while she loved Gary and their children so very much, without God she may never have been able to have more children.

In that moment, alarms went off in my head.  I realized that I’ve been dwelling on this baby thing for too long.  I’ve lost my faith in God and His plans for me.  I’ve been putting my husband and son and everything else in my life before God.

Even though I attend church and teach CCD and pray, I really wasn’t listening to God.  I wasn’t hearing His words and understanding His plan.  And He does have a plan.  He had a plan for Jessica, and she was smart enough to trust and follow Him.

After Jessica’s talk was over, I felt at peace.  All my harried thoughts disappeared.  Instead of worrying about my biological clock ticking, instead of thinking I have to get pregnant right now because I don’t want my children to be too far apart, my mind was quiet.  And my heart was open.

I realize this might sound crazy, but I honestly believe that God has intervened.  He’s trying to tell me that He’s listening.  He’s watching.  He has given me respite from all the worry and disappointment.

For the first time in so long, I feel at peace, and I’m so grateful.

August 13, 2008

I’m Not Here… *Updated

I’ll be spending my day at the hospital.  My father was injured in a minor accident, but it’s scary just the same.  He was changing a tire on his truck when the jack slipped, causing the vehicle to fall on his face.  After being transferred from our local hospital to St. Joseph’s in Marshfield, doctors say he’ll need reconstructive surgery after the swelling goes down.  I’m hysterical.  I keep imagining things turning out worse and I can’t bear the thought of losing my father.

And I’m angry because the accident happened last night, and my mother wouldn’t let my sister call me until this morning, because she claims she didn’t want me to worry. Yeah, that really makes me feel better.

I’ll give updates as soon as I know more, but in the meantime, please head over to the Imperfect Parent.  I’m talking about work flexibility in scheduling.  Now that the kids will be off to school, many parents are looking for work hours that accomodate their child’s school schedules.  Have any ideas on this subject?  Please leave a comment.  I love to see all the great suggestions you all come up with.

And if you’ve been dying to read The White Trash Mom Handbook by Michelle Lamar, the White Trash Mom, head over to Dana Reviews to see what I have to say about it.  Believe me, it’s good.

———————

My sister and I have been at the hospital since a little before 11 a.m.  It was a 45-minute drive to Marshfield and we couldn’t find Dad’s “room” in the ICU because they moved him.  Once we got there, I broke down into tears upon seeing him.

Dad is in a neck brace to keep from moving and causing more fracturing and he is so uncomfortable.  For so many hours the doctors wouldn’t allow him to drink anything, and he is so thirsty.  He can’t breathe out of his nose because of the swelling and his mouth was drying out from breathing through it.

He doesn’t look so good.  Which I expected, but actually seeing the extent of his injuries and realizing how much pain he is in, I started to cry.    Then I frantically tried to regain my composure.  The last thing I needed was to scare Dawson. 

Doug thinks I’m traumatizing our son by allowing him to see his Papa in this condition.  I don’t know what to think.  I would have taken him to daycare this morning, but after I freaked out when I found out what happened, there was no way Dawson would go to Renee’s willingly.  Leaving me to worry about another thing in this difficult time.

Dad’s doctors say that he has a fractured eye socket, a broken nose, fractured cheek bone and his sinus cavity is caved in.  The neurologist says there’s no brain swelling, which is a blessing, and his eye is fine.  Once the swelling is relieved, he should be seeing normally again.

The scariest part of this is that he can’t have surgery until the swelling is reduced and this could take 7-10 days — and they’ll have to do a craniotomy.  Part of his skull will be cut and removed to correct his injuries from the inside out.  I nearly lost my mind when I heard that.  It sounds risky and for the first time I saw the fear in my dad’s eyes.  It breaks my heart.

The hardest part for me is not showing how freaked out I am.  My dad is my rock and I can’t bear to let him worry about me worrying.

Dad’s got a great neuro-surgeon and oral-maxillofacial surgeon.  Think McDreamy and McSteamy but not dreamy and steamy at all.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch that damn show again after this. 

Now that they won’t be performing any surgery for awhile, they are finally feeding him soft foods like mashed potatoes, and he might be able to go home in a couple days to rest until the surgery.

My mind is racing, but I’m trying to hold myself together.  Lots of things to do on Dad’s behalf.  I’ll update that later.  We helped him fill out disability forms from his job, but we’re waiting for the doctor to complete his portion.

Thankfully, Marshfield Hospital has computer I can use to check e-mails and file his insurance claims online.

I’ll try to update later, but right now I’m fuzzy as I try to navigate all of this information.

Thank you all for keeping my father, my family and me in your thoughts and prayers.  It means the world to me.  I can’t express the gratitude I am feeling, but I love you all so much.