...I wait. ....and I wait. ....and I wait even more. I've started repeating mantras like "one day at a time" or "I can only do what I can do" or "be patient." None of them are helping my Type A, anxiety driven personality. I wake up every morning and the first thought is, "I hope she is better today." Then I make the phone call or go there to find out that no, she isn't any better today. The pain is gone, but there are lingering affects which are preventing her from healing... but more importantly they are preventing her from being her.
She doesn't much understand where everyone's concern comes from which strikes me as odd. My mom isn't just loved. Mom is worshipped by many. If there was ever a perfect mom, grandma, mother in law and probably wife, I'm sure my mom is a candidate for that. None of us can begin to comprehend how hard it's been for her to recover from treatment and surgery, but she can't seem to comprehend what is plaguing us. We worry and wait because we miss her. The person she was before the diagnosis.
We all continue to wait and hope that over time she will return to her full self. Today she is having more tests which will hopefully explain her continued nausea and vomiting. So, I sit here and I wait. I wait for the phone call to hear how she did and what the doctor has said. Once again, I'm sick and have been banned, for obvious reasons. It's hard to be here alone waiting but I'm sure it's worse sitting in a waiting room alone, where her husband is.
Sadly, I think that today my mom is expecting miracles to happen but I fear Dr. S isn't going to have the answers to her questions. My anxiety levels only continue to rise when I think about it. I fear she is never going to be the same. That she is never going to get better. That this is the life we're all going to have.
The best Christmas present I could hope for is her recovery to be speedy, that her tests today give her the definitive answers she's looking for and her mood changes on her own and not in a forced way to make the rest of us happy. I miss my mom but I'll wait as long as it takes and do whatever I can to make this all better for her. .....and I suspect that just means more waiting.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
This is More Difficult Than I Thought...
It has been said a thousand times, but you spend your youth trying NOT to get pregnant. Before you know it, you're ready to be a mom and you CAN'T get pregnant.
This isn't something I've ever really talked about. I don't know why really--- it's not that I am ashamed of it but I guess it's, well, painful. Recently, I've talked about it more because I have a few friends trying to get get pregnant and are experiencing some difficulty. Some for the first time, some for their second child. No matter when you are trying to get pregnant, there is nothing more stressful or heartbreaking. I have a handful of friends who needed reproductive assistance. When I was going through it, I realized that this was the dirty little secret that no one talked about. There are millions of couples struggling to get pregnant but no matter what, when you try month after month, you feel as though you are the only one.
My story isn't unique. My husband and i went through a series of tests but we ultimately fell under the "unexplained" category. We tried for nearly a year. I invested hundreds of dollars in pregnancy tests, ovulation predictor kits, books on fertility... You name it. I thought each of these items would be like finding the miracle diet pill. That boom, we would have sex and I'd get pregnant. I mean, that's how it's suppose to happen right?
Nothing made me feel less of a woman than not being able to get pregnant. Wow. That's a tough sentence to write but at least for me, it's the truth. As a woman, your body was made for this purpose and to not be able to get pregnant, made me feel useless. I did blame myself, which I know now is foolish. But, follow my train of thought... my husband had one test, just one which he passed with flying colors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his sperm, so then if it's not him, it's got to be... me? Yeah.
Being an anxious person didn't help the process either. Please don't misunderstand, anxiety didn't cause me not to get pregnant, it just made it harder to deal with. Anxiety does not have anything to do with getting pregnant. If you are trying to get pregnant, repeat that to yourself as though it were a personal mantra. By the way, there are a number of things you don't say to someone trying to get pregnant:
1. Relax, it will just happen
2. You don't miss what you don't have
3. Not everyone is suppose to have kids
4. Can't you just adopt?
5. Do you really want to put your body through all this?
Those were my favorites. People don't mean to be insensitive, they are just trying to help. Most of these lines came from close friends and family so I know at the time they were being comforting-- it just didn't work. Chalk infertility up to one of those topics where you never know what the right thing to say is.
My husband was my rock. He was the only one I could turn to during all of the this. Some of the fertility tests were very painful but he was by my side. After much discussion with our reproductive endocrinologist, I chose to skip the option to take another pill and get right into the action. Our first attempt was to be an IUI (intrauterine insemination). This was going to require shots, frequent blood work and almost daily internal ultrasounds-- over a two week period.
I didn't complain-- not once. I knew what I was doing was important, but looking back now, I felt horrible all the time. The hormones made me sick and very tired. Our first attempt was fortunately our only attempt because I became pregnant with our daughter. I would do this all over again just to have her and I never doubt the decisions we made. Pregnancy was awesome. I didn't want to just become a mom, I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to experience all the excitement. I remember it all like it was yesterday. My first trimester was difficult and I almost lost her a few weeks in, but it was first time that my maternal instinct kicked in and I knew she was going to be just fine.... even though at the time I was convinced she was a he.
This isn't something I've ever really talked about. I don't know why really--- it's not that I am ashamed of it but I guess it's, well, painful. Recently, I've talked about it more because I have a few friends trying to get get pregnant and are experiencing some difficulty. Some for the first time, some for their second child. No matter when you are trying to get pregnant, there is nothing more stressful or heartbreaking. I have a handful of friends who needed reproductive assistance. When I was going through it, I realized that this was the dirty little secret that no one talked about. There are millions of couples struggling to get pregnant but no matter what, when you try month after month, you feel as though you are the only one.
My story isn't unique. My husband and i went through a series of tests but we ultimately fell under the "unexplained" category. We tried for nearly a year. I invested hundreds of dollars in pregnancy tests, ovulation predictor kits, books on fertility... You name it. I thought each of these items would be like finding the miracle diet pill. That boom, we would have sex and I'd get pregnant. I mean, that's how it's suppose to happen right?
Nothing made me feel less of a woman than not being able to get pregnant. Wow. That's a tough sentence to write but at least for me, it's the truth. As a woman, your body was made for this purpose and to not be able to get pregnant, made me feel useless. I did blame myself, which I know now is foolish. But, follow my train of thought... my husband had one test, just one which he passed with flying colors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his sperm, so then if it's not him, it's got to be... me? Yeah.
Being an anxious person didn't help the process either. Please don't misunderstand, anxiety didn't cause me not to get pregnant, it just made it harder to deal with. Anxiety does not have anything to do with getting pregnant. If you are trying to get pregnant, repeat that to yourself as though it were a personal mantra. By the way, there are a number of things you don't say to someone trying to get pregnant:
1. Relax, it will just happen
2. You don't miss what you don't have
3. Not everyone is suppose to have kids
4. Can't you just adopt?
5. Do you really want to put your body through all this?
Those were my favorites. People don't mean to be insensitive, they are just trying to help. Most of these lines came from close friends and family so I know at the time they were being comforting-- it just didn't work. Chalk infertility up to one of those topics where you never know what the right thing to say is.
My husband was my rock. He was the only one I could turn to during all of the this. Some of the fertility tests were very painful but he was by my side. After much discussion with our reproductive endocrinologist, I chose to skip the option to take another pill and get right into the action. Our first attempt was to be an IUI (intrauterine insemination). This was going to require shots, frequent blood work and almost daily internal ultrasounds-- over a two week period.
I didn't complain-- not once. I knew what I was doing was important, but looking back now, I felt horrible all the time. The hormones made me sick and very tired. Our first attempt was fortunately our only attempt because I became pregnant with our daughter. I would do this all over again just to have her and I never doubt the decisions we made. Pregnancy was awesome. I didn't want to just become a mom, I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to experience all the excitement. I remember it all like it was yesterday. My first trimester was difficult and I almost lost her a few weeks in, but it was first time that my maternal instinct kicked in and I knew she was going to be just fine.... even though at the time I was convinced she was a he.
Recovery in 3 Acts: Act 1 Hope
I have avoided this blog for weeks--- and it hasn't gone unnoticed. At first, I kept telling myself I was very busy but that was my usual denial. I didn't want to face my fears and discuss all the emotion and noise in my head. When you begin to write it, you really feel it and I've spent the better part of my life (or at least the last 13 years) trying not to feel anything. I numb myself in anyway I know how.
November 15. It came, we saw, she conquered. My mom bravely fought what will hopefully be her last battle with Cancer. She had a successful surgery in which Dr. N declared her to be Cancer-free. CANCER FREE. We heard that term once before from Dr. S the oncologist but his came with the disclaimer that we won't know for sure until they open her up. When they did, there was nothing there and most importantly her lymph nodes looked good. We still patiently await the biopsy results but Dr. N and Dr. S are confident about her health and her long future.
Where was I on November 15? Home in bed. The Italian guilt did kick in.... as usual but not much could have been done.By an act of what I believe was divine intervention, I contracted some mutant alien version of strep throat which had me on anti-biotics, steroids and percocet. I slept through the surgery-- and mostly the day for that matter. I was completely knocked out by the pain killers which was good because looking back, I don't know who I was fooling but I wouldn't have been strong enough to survive the day. Even though I wasn't there, I was scared. I was scared for days leading up to the surgery. No longer in fear of the Cancer but in fear of the unknown. Surgery is risky and this was big. My psychosis is my worst enemy...
I didn't get to see my mom for nearly 8 days because I was sick. The last think I wanted to do was be responsible for spreading germs. Let's face it-- hospitals are the breeding grounds for disease as it is, no need to make it worse. She couldn't talk to me either which was hard. She was heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain. Two weeks later and she still is in a great deal of pain.
Trying to take care of her is an odd feeling-- not bad or good, just odd. I can't really verbalize all that I am going through right now. Being an only child she did(and still does to an extent) take care of me. I am happy to do it, but it gives me anxiety. I wonder if she is ever going to be the same after this surgery. Will she ever be the same mom she was. These are my real concerns.
I miss my mom. I am beyond words thankful that she is still here and fought this battle as hard as she did. Yet, at the same time, she's not here. I suppose all of this could be normal-- but nothing I feel is ever normal so who knows. One day at a time is all I can do. It's all we can do.
November 15. It came, we saw, she conquered. My mom bravely fought what will hopefully be her last battle with Cancer. She had a successful surgery in which Dr. N declared her to be Cancer-free. CANCER FREE. We heard that term once before from Dr. S the oncologist but his came with the disclaimer that we won't know for sure until they open her up. When they did, there was nothing there and most importantly her lymph nodes looked good. We still patiently await the biopsy results but Dr. N and Dr. S are confident about her health and her long future.
Where was I on November 15? Home in bed. The Italian guilt did kick in.... as usual but not much could have been done.By an act of what I believe was divine intervention, I contracted some mutant alien version of strep throat which had me on anti-biotics, steroids and percocet. I slept through the surgery-- and mostly the day for that matter. I was completely knocked out by the pain killers which was good because looking back, I don't know who I was fooling but I wouldn't have been strong enough to survive the day. Even though I wasn't there, I was scared. I was scared for days leading up to the surgery. No longer in fear of the Cancer but in fear of the unknown. Surgery is risky and this was big. My psychosis is my worst enemy...
I didn't get to see my mom for nearly 8 days because I was sick. The last think I wanted to do was be responsible for spreading germs. Let's face it-- hospitals are the breeding grounds for disease as it is, no need to make it worse. She couldn't talk to me either which was hard. She was heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain. Two weeks later and she still is in a great deal of pain.
Trying to take care of her is an odd feeling-- not bad or good, just odd. I can't really verbalize all that I am going through right now. Being an only child she did(and still does to an extent) take care of me. I am happy to do it, but it gives me anxiety. I wonder if she is ever going to be the same after this surgery. Will she ever be the same mom she was. These are my real concerns.
I miss my mom. I am beyond words thankful that she is still here and fought this battle as hard as she did. Yet, at the same time, she's not here. I suppose all of this could be normal-- but nothing I feel is ever normal so who knows. One day at a time is all I can do. It's all we can do.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Unexplained
My favorite part about being a neurotic mess is the "unexplained" anxiety that I seem to have. Usually, I can pinpoint the reasons for every panic attack, every stomach knot and every sleepless night however, there is a small percentage of anxiety filled days which fall into one of those "unexplained" categories. I woke up this morning with slight anxiety and then by 10 am, I was so filled to the brim with anxiety that I couldn't breathe. It's unnerving and disrupts my production level for the day. When I can determine where my anxiety is stemming from, it's easier for me to control my mood but in these situations, EVERYTHING bothers me.
If you aren't an anxious person, it's a difficult feeling to describe but it feels as though I am about to jump out of my skin. It's hard to be around myself--- which is tragic considering how much I enjoy alone time. If possible, I try to take a nap when this happens. Unfortunately, I don't always have that option (side note-- someone is on the phone around me and I want to scream because they are too loud-- this is all the anxiety. If I wasn't so anxious, I really wouldn't give a shit). I do have medication prescribed to me for such occasions, but given that I have to pick my daughter up in 2 hours, I need to be alert and have to pass....
My mind is always racing at a million miles an hour. I suspect part of this anxiety is a result of my mom's surgery on November 15. I am dreading this surgery almost as much as my mom is. It scares me to death actually but I would think it's too soon for my anxiety to start it's mind warp over the surgery but maybe it is. I have irrational fears with connected superstitions to all the "bad events" in my life (for example, I refuse to fly on the anniversary of my father's death because I think the plane will crash. Yeah, completely fucking insane. I know). In typical neurotic fashion, I fear my mom having surgery so close to the holiday because my husband's mom died a few days before Thanksgiving. This thought is starting to consume me--- and not in a good way.
Do you know what only perpetrates these irrational thoughts? Oprah. That's right, the Queen of Daytime TV should also be called the Queen of the Damned. She continues to put on the saddest, most gut wrenching, stories I've ever heard and I think, "OMG, if someone's life can be this tragic, then how will I avoid such tragedy?" Of course, the solution here is obvious-- stop watching Oprah. ...but that's like giving up chocolate. Impossible.
I sit here, barely breathing, wondering when the anxiety is going to disappear but also wonder if this is going to continue for the next two weeks in anticipation of my mom's surgery. I hope this anxiety falls into the unexplained category because honestly, I can't take the next two weeks of this. When my anxiety gets this bad, it is almost too painful to deal with the day.
There isn't much for me to do to take my mind off of it. Working doesn't help. I'm not sure what it's like to be normal and not have all this noise in my head. I envy people who are laid back.... Clearly, anyone would be concerned about surgery, I just don't know of it's normal to start worrying about it two weeks out. Then again, maybe the surgery isn't what's causing all my anxiety. Maybe there is another trigger.... My subconscious is a scary place and i try to avoid any deep searching of my thoughts. It only ends up in doubling my dose of xanax. Sometimes it's just best to leave it alone.
If you aren't an anxious person, it's a difficult feeling to describe but it feels as though I am about to jump out of my skin. It's hard to be around myself--- which is tragic considering how much I enjoy alone time. If possible, I try to take a nap when this happens. Unfortunately, I don't always have that option (side note-- someone is on the phone around me and I want to scream because they are too loud-- this is all the anxiety. If I wasn't so anxious, I really wouldn't give a shit). I do have medication prescribed to me for such occasions, but given that I have to pick my daughter up in 2 hours, I need to be alert and have to pass....
My mind is always racing at a million miles an hour. I suspect part of this anxiety is a result of my mom's surgery on November 15. I am dreading this surgery almost as much as my mom is. It scares me to death actually but I would think it's too soon for my anxiety to start it's mind warp over the surgery but maybe it is. I have irrational fears with connected superstitions to all the "bad events" in my life (for example, I refuse to fly on the anniversary of my father's death because I think the plane will crash. Yeah, completely fucking insane. I know). In typical neurotic fashion, I fear my mom having surgery so close to the holiday because my husband's mom died a few days before Thanksgiving. This thought is starting to consume me--- and not in a good way.
Do you know what only perpetrates these irrational thoughts? Oprah. That's right, the Queen of Daytime TV should also be called the Queen of the Damned. She continues to put on the saddest, most gut wrenching, stories I've ever heard and I think, "OMG, if someone's life can be this tragic, then how will I avoid such tragedy?" Of course, the solution here is obvious-- stop watching Oprah. ...but that's like giving up chocolate. Impossible.
I sit here, barely breathing, wondering when the anxiety is going to disappear but also wonder if this is going to continue for the next two weeks in anticipation of my mom's surgery. I hope this anxiety falls into the unexplained category because honestly, I can't take the next two weeks of this. When my anxiety gets this bad, it is almost too painful to deal with the day.
There isn't much for me to do to take my mind off of it. Working doesn't help. I'm not sure what it's like to be normal and not have all this noise in my head. I envy people who are laid back.... Clearly, anyone would be concerned about surgery, I just don't know of it's normal to start worrying about it two weeks out. Then again, maybe the surgery isn't what's causing all my anxiety. Maybe there is another trigger.... My subconscious is a scary place and i try to avoid any deep searching of my thoughts. It only ends up in doubling my dose of xanax. Sometimes it's just best to leave it alone.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
It Takes A Village
Apparently there are some women out there who believe that sending your child to daycare is a "last resort" for moms.... OK, I apologize in advance if I offend anyone out there but I need to address this issue.
I have been the target of pitiful looks and tongue lashings from "friends" (yeah, not in my life anymore) AND family (not mine, my husband's) for putting my child in daycare. Let me preface my arguments by saying that I have NO issue with women who choose to stay home and take care of the kids. That is probably one of the hardest things to do and unless you're a stay at home dad, men will NEVER understand how hard it is. I applaud you, really but that doesn't make you a better mother than me. In some instances that I've seen, the children are better off in the hands of strangers than their own parents. My arguments may not apply to EVERY child, but let's say 3 out of 4 for good measure...
Argument One: Socialization
My child is nearly 20 months old and WILL BE an only child. For many reasons, we decided this what was we wanted as a couple. If she was home with me all day, she wouldn't have any socialization skills. Instead, she would know all about being a Jersey Housewife, what an Intervention consists of and the lifestyle of the Kardashian sisters. I am addicted to TV and soon she would be to.... She isn't going to benefit from sitting in a house with me day in and day out while I try to find ways to amuse her. I think it's important she learns the benefits of friends and playing and all around, being a kid. I am late to have kids compared to some family and friends and have seen the downside to keeping their children home with them. My daughter started talking in sentences at an early age. I don't think it has anything to do with how smart she is but more the socialization skills she has gained from being around other kids. My daughter will never know what it's like NOT to have friends or a playmate. She won't be 4 years old and learning how to leave her mommy and make friends at the same time. I know 6 year olds that can't hack it. She is learning an important skill set that I wish I had. I know that if daycare was an option in the 70's, my mom would have sent me even if it was for one day a week. A child needs this exposure.
Argument Two: I'm Not Qualified
Sure, I am qualified to be a mom but there are people out there who went to school to receive Master's degrees in Early Elementary Education. Yeah, my JD isn't going to help me there. These women (and few men) have a ton more patience and knowledge than I will ever have. My daughter bonded to her primary infant care giver at daycare and I am forever grateful to her. I believe she was a strong influence on my daughter at the time and worked with her on achieving the milestones she needed before she turned one. My daughter's current teachers have taken extra time with her to help with her walking (she was late on this...). I'm a first time mom and I welcome most advice, but these women have been doing this for years with a ton of kids. I trust them. Her personality blossomed and she is practically running around the house (note to self, suspend gym membership due to excessive cardio every day).
Argument Three: Money
I'm not going to pretend my husband and I aren't well off, because we do pretty well. So, yes, I can afford to stay home with her. My income could be suspended for a few years until she goes to pre-school or Kindergarten. It's important to look at the bigger picture here. If I stay home, we would need to give up things which I believe are necessary. I'm not talking about Louboutins and dinners out, I'm talking about taking her to the zoo or the movies or even Disney on Ice. These are some of the best things about being a kid and I want her to have it all. I don't need her to be the best dressed kid in school, but I do need her to be happy. She has all the love in the world from us along with 4 grandparents that adore her. She is never at a loss for love or immaterial things. And from the selfish only child p.o.v. (me), there are still luxuries my husband and I don't want to give up (mani/pedis....). These things make US happy. When we're happy, she will inevitably be happy. Have you ever seen a child who comes from a home with unhappy parents? I have. It's not pretty.
Argument Four: FOR ME
I am a better mom, better wife and better person because I have not lost who I am. I need to work and have a life outside the home. The time I spend with her is precious and it is productive because I am at work and away from her all day. I was home on maternity leave for 16 weeks. I love my daughter more than the air that I breathe but I couldn't take it. You get into a routine, the days become monotonous, and you start to get depressed. Your whole life revolves around feedings, naps and dirty diapers. Yes, this is what I signed on for but it's not the ONLY thing I sign ed on for. NOTHING is better than seeing my daughter's face light up when I walk into daycare and hearing her say, "MOMMY!!!" and run up to me. NOTHING. It's brings tears to my eyes just writing this. That's what I wanted.... My husband works 12 hour days so I spend a lot of time with her on my days off. These are the moment I cherish because I'm not tired or stressed or depressed. I have waited all week for these hours with her. I look forward to the hours at night where I feed her, bathe her and read to her. It's the best part of my day.... If this was all I did, every day all day, I wouldn't appreciate it as much. I don't think anyone would.
I've had a lot of shitty things said to me and after some discussion, have learned that my friends have faced the same type of discrimination by "stay at home" moms. This was the decision my husband and I made. It wasn't easy. I didn't just drop her off on the front steps in her infant carrier... I cried for days and called the room EVERY SINGLE DAY to see how she was for a year. People tried to talk me out of it. They insisted my child would be sick ALL the time. Well, she was. She had chronic ear infections but those aren't contagious.... Aside from a few colds she was pretty healthy.
I know that some moms have family watch their kids or even may have a nanny if they can afford it. Again, I don't agree with it (see argument one) but I see their point of view. I know there are people who can't afford daycare and still work so rely on another family member or friend. Daycare is astronomical and I may have different arguments if I had more than one child or was a single mom. You don't want to work to pay for daycare. That's not conducive to a happy home either.
You don't get more points for being a stay at home mom. You don't get more points for putting your child in day care. It's important for women to realize this is a personal choice and shouldn't be criticized one way or another. Being a parent is a tough job on anyone. Sometimes you need all the help you can get. I'm confident in OUR decision to have our daughter in daycare and we're fortunate we can afford to have her there.
I have been the target of pitiful looks and tongue lashings from "friends" (yeah, not in my life anymore) AND family (not mine, my husband's) for putting my child in daycare. Let me preface my arguments by saying that I have NO issue with women who choose to stay home and take care of the kids. That is probably one of the hardest things to do and unless you're a stay at home dad, men will NEVER understand how hard it is. I applaud you, really but that doesn't make you a better mother than me. In some instances that I've seen, the children are better off in the hands of strangers than their own parents. My arguments may not apply to EVERY child, but let's say 3 out of 4 for good measure...
Argument One: Socialization
My child is nearly 20 months old and WILL BE an only child. For many reasons, we decided this what was we wanted as a couple. If she was home with me all day, she wouldn't have any socialization skills. Instead, she would know all about being a Jersey Housewife, what an Intervention consists of and the lifestyle of the Kardashian sisters. I am addicted to TV and soon she would be to.... She isn't going to benefit from sitting in a house with me day in and day out while I try to find ways to amuse her. I think it's important she learns the benefits of friends and playing and all around, being a kid. I am late to have kids compared to some family and friends and have seen the downside to keeping their children home with them. My daughter started talking in sentences at an early age. I don't think it has anything to do with how smart she is but more the socialization skills she has gained from being around other kids. My daughter will never know what it's like NOT to have friends or a playmate. She won't be 4 years old and learning how to leave her mommy and make friends at the same time. I know 6 year olds that can't hack it. She is learning an important skill set that I wish I had. I know that if daycare was an option in the 70's, my mom would have sent me even if it was for one day a week. A child needs this exposure.
Argument Two: I'm Not Qualified
Sure, I am qualified to be a mom but there are people out there who went to school to receive Master's degrees in Early Elementary Education. Yeah, my JD isn't going to help me there. These women (and few men) have a ton more patience and knowledge than I will ever have. My daughter bonded to her primary infant care giver at daycare and I am forever grateful to her. I believe she was a strong influence on my daughter at the time and worked with her on achieving the milestones she needed before she turned one. My daughter's current teachers have taken extra time with her to help with her walking (she was late on this...). I'm a first time mom and I welcome most advice, but these women have been doing this for years with a ton of kids. I trust them. Her personality blossomed and she is practically running around the house (note to self, suspend gym membership due to excessive cardio every day).
Argument Three: Money
I'm not going to pretend my husband and I aren't well off, because we do pretty well. So, yes, I can afford to stay home with her. My income could be suspended for a few years until she goes to pre-school or Kindergarten. It's important to look at the bigger picture here. If I stay home, we would need to give up things which I believe are necessary. I'm not talking about Louboutins and dinners out, I'm talking about taking her to the zoo or the movies or even Disney on Ice. These are some of the best things about being a kid and I want her to have it all. I don't need her to be the best dressed kid in school, but I do need her to be happy. She has all the love in the world from us along with 4 grandparents that adore her. She is never at a loss for love or immaterial things. And from the selfish only child p.o.v. (me), there are still luxuries my husband and I don't want to give up (mani/pedis....). These things make US happy. When we're happy, she will inevitably be happy. Have you ever seen a child who comes from a home with unhappy parents? I have. It's not pretty.
Argument Four: FOR ME
I am a better mom, better wife and better person because I have not lost who I am. I need to work and have a life outside the home. The time I spend with her is precious and it is productive because I am at work and away from her all day. I was home on maternity leave for 16 weeks. I love my daughter more than the air that I breathe but I couldn't take it. You get into a routine, the days become monotonous, and you start to get depressed. Your whole life revolves around feedings, naps and dirty diapers. Yes, this is what I signed on for but it's not the ONLY thing I sign ed on for. NOTHING is better than seeing my daughter's face light up when I walk into daycare and hearing her say, "MOMMY!!!" and run up to me. NOTHING. It's brings tears to my eyes just writing this. That's what I wanted.... My husband works 12 hour days so I spend a lot of time with her on my days off. These are the moment I cherish because I'm not tired or stressed or depressed. I have waited all week for these hours with her. I look forward to the hours at night where I feed her, bathe her and read to her. It's the best part of my day.... If this was all I did, every day all day, I wouldn't appreciate it as much. I don't think anyone would.
I've had a lot of shitty things said to me and after some discussion, have learned that my friends have faced the same type of discrimination by "stay at home" moms. This was the decision my husband and I made. It wasn't easy. I didn't just drop her off on the front steps in her infant carrier... I cried for days and called the room EVERY SINGLE DAY to see how she was for a year. People tried to talk me out of it. They insisted my child would be sick ALL the time. Well, she was. She had chronic ear infections but those aren't contagious.... Aside from a few colds she was pretty healthy.
I know that some moms have family watch their kids or even may have a nanny if they can afford it. Again, I don't agree with it (see argument one) but I see their point of view. I know there are people who can't afford daycare and still work so rely on another family member or friend. Daycare is astronomical and I may have different arguments if I had more than one child or was a single mom. You don't want to work to pay for daycare. That's not conducive to a happy home either.
You don't get more points for being a stay at home mom. You don't get more points for putting your child in day care. It's important for women to realize this is a personal choice and shouldn't be criticized one way or another. Being a parent is a tough job on anyone. Sometimes you need all the help you can get. I'm confident in OUR decision to have our daughter in daycare and we're fortunate we can afford to have her there.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
...and scene.
After the last two blogs, I thought I should write about something good.... er, great.
Aside from: "Free Louboutins" or "Mr. Wahlberg is holding on line one for you"-- I didn't think I would hear something as wonderful as, "Dr. S called. The Cancer is gone." Is there anything even left to say after that? Even thought I have heard that news once before (my dad was in remission for about 15 minutes), this is the new positive me so I know my mom is going to be fine. Hearing the news was exhilarating and to be honest, it still hasn't hit me I don't think. (See previous sentence). I think there is still a small part of me that wonders if the tests were right and if it's really gone, but again, I'm going to try and be positive.
When I heard the news I cried from being so happy and couldn't wait to call my husband and the rest of the family for that matter. I sent out text messages to everyone who knew about my mom's diagnosis. It's possible that people won't even know she's Cancer free until they read this blog. I was asked not to post anything on a public forum (Facebook, Twitter, etc) so it took a while to reach everyone.... Hmmm, I wonder if blogging counts??? She's going to kill me if/when I ever tell her about this blog.
The obvious question is whether she will need the surgery still. Yes, she is still going in for surgery. I don't know if it's necessary as much as it's precautionary at this point. The doctors all seemed to be a bit shocked the Cancer is gone. I keep hearing the word "miracle" thrown around a lot lately with her fighting this disease. Maybe this is God's way (yes, I do believe there is one even after all of this) of making up for what happened to my dad. But, I don't thank Dr. S for this miraculous recovery and I don't thank God either... I thank my dad.
My spirituality doesn't come from a religious belief but more of a superstitious one. I'm not about to open a can of worms on theology so let's say I believe in God and leave it at that. I believe this was a divine intervention by my father. I've felt that way all along. My mom was lucky enough to have a Cancer diagnosed at Stage I, which is usually diagnosed at Stage III or Stage IV. I don't know how he did it, but he put the wheels in motion of her getting sick which led to her early diagnosis. Does this sound crazy? Sure but you can't change my mind on this.
My blog will go on for a while longer-- at least through the surgery. I'm going to need to vent somehow.
For now, all I can do is be thankful that she is Cancer free and hope she begins to feel better. The residual effects of various infections and treatment therapies have taken a toll on her. I miss having my mom around and I feel as though she isn't around (understandably). I do believe she is at least 75% of the way on the road to recovery.
If this continues to go well, I will no longer see Cancer as a death sentence. I do know Cancer survivors (I have to mention that my pug is one of them...) and I know people who know Cancer survivors. After my father died, it seemed everyone I knew with a Cancer diagnosis lived. I hope to now include my mom in that group of people.
Aside from: "Free Louboutins" or "Mr. Wahlberg is holding on line one for you"-- I didn't think I would hear something as wonderful as, "Dr. S called. The Cancer is gone." Is there anything even left to say after that? Even thought I have heard that news once before (my dad was in remission for about 15 minutes), this is the new positive me so I know my mom is going to be fine. Hearing the news was exhilarating and to be honest, it still hasn't hit me I don't think. (See previous sentence). I think there is still a small part of me that wonders if the tests were right and if it's really gone, but again, I'm going to try and be positive.
When I heard the news I cried from being so happy and couldn't wait to call my husband and the rest of the family for that matter. I sent out text messages to everyone who knew about my mom's diagnosis. It's possible that people won't even know she's Cancer free until they read this blog. I was asked not to post anything on a public forum (Facebook, Twitter, etc) so it took a while to reach everyone.... Hmmm, I wonder if blogging counts??? She's going to kill me if/when I ever tell her about this blog.
The obvious question is whether she will need the surgery still. Yes, she is still going in for surgery. I don't know if it's necessary as much as it's precautionary at this point. The doctors all seemed to be a bit shocked the Cancer is gone. I keep hearing the word "miracle" thrown around a lot lately with her fighting this disease. Maybe this is God's way (yes, I do believe there is one even after all of this) of making up for what happened to my dad. But, I don't thank Dr. S for this miraculous recovery and I don't thank God either... I thank my dad.
My spirituality doesn't come from a religious belief but more of a superstitious one. I'm not about to open a can of worms on theology so let's say I believe in God and leave it at that. I believe this was a divine intervention by my father. I've felt that way all along. My mom was lucky enough to have a Cancer diagnosed at Stage I, which is usually diagnosed at Stage III or Stage IV. I don't know how he did it, but he put the wheels in motion of her getting sick which led to her early diagnosis. Does this sound crazy? Sure but you can't change my mind on this.
My blog will go on for a while longer-- at least through the surgery. I'm going to need to vent somehow.
For now, all I can do is be thankful that she is Cancer free and hope she begins to feel better. The residual effects of various infections and treatment therapies have taken a toll on her. I miss having my mom around and I feel as though she isn't around (understandably). I do believe she is at least 75% of the way on the road to recovery.
If this continues to go well, I will no longer see Cancer as a death sentence. I do know Cancer survivors (I have to mention that my pug is one of them...) and I know people who know Cancer survivors. After my father died, it seemed everyone I knew with a Cancer diagnosis lived. I hope to now include my mom in that group of people.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Anatomy of a Panic Attack
For me, they come out of no where. One minute I'm fine and then the next I can't breathe. They don't always end up with me in tears but when they do, it measures a ten on the "This really sucks" scale..
Let me start from the beginning... The other day when I brought mom into the Cancer center, she wasn't feeling well at all. I can probably say she looked the worst I've seen her in months. Even though it's like ripping out my insides when I see her sick like that, I want to be there. It validates me as a daughter to be able to help but this time it back fired on me. I was given one job-- get mom upstairs to see the doctor.
As I was standing at the nurse's desk, giving her name, I heard a thump, followed by "Oh My God" screams, followed by "CODE!" When I turned around, I saw my mom on the ground. I vaguely heard someone say, "she's not breathing." WHAT THE FUCK? Are you kidding me?
I ran over and calmly sat down while I watched a dozen nurses and doctors work on my mom. It's important to note that she didn't ever stop breathing, she just passed out from the pain. I remember some random lady rubbing my back asking me if I was OK-- I must have turned white as a ghost. It was completely an out of body experience because I sort of remember looking at things from another angle. As if it were a dream but it wasn't.
They lifted my mom onto the gurney and rolled her into the back to examine her and do an EKG. ...this is where it gets really, really, really bad. Per usual, I was breathing at a normal pace... then I was breathing fast.... and then faster.... and then faster.... now I'm hyperventilating to the point of feeling dizzy. I remember trying to focus on breathing in and out but it was completely out of my control by this point. Everyone around me was asking, "are you OK?" --- hmmm, let's see..... I'M HYPERVENTILATING SO CLEARLY NO, I'M NOT OK YOU ASSCLOWNS.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing and saying, "I can't do this anymore......" That's all I could manage to get out of my mouth. I was having a complete and total meltdown. For the first time in three months, I was being honest, out loud, about my feelings. I wasn't hiding behind some thin veil of a positive attitude. I wasn't allowing my guilt of selfishness to hold me back from expressing myself. I really can't do it anymore. I'm tired of worrying all the time.... Every moment of every day is is filled with me worrying about my mom dying. Yeah, I know, unhealthy.....
A nurse from the back appeared from no where and while I was sitting there sobbing, she put her arms around me. She clearly had children because I could feel the maternal-ness (is that a word???) from her. I completely allowed myself to fall into her arms and cry for what seemed like hours. I had been carrying this weight with me for so long and it felt so good to just let go.
She kept telling me that I didn't need to try and fix this. That I didn't need to carry this responsibility anymore. It was time for me to ask for help because there was plenty of people who could help me. Well, that's never been my strong suit. People come to me for support, for help, for a shoulder to lean on.... I don't know how to do that, which is why I have panic attacks.
After the panic attack, I was numb. I was tired. I am tired.
Let me start from the beginning... The other day when I brought mom into the Cancer center, she wasn't feeling well at all. I can probably say she looked the worst I've seen her in months. Even though it's like ripping out my insides when I see her sick like that, I want to be there. It validates me as a daughter to be able to help but this time it back fired on me. I was given one job-- get mom upstairs to see the doctor.
As I was standing at the nurse's desk, giving her name, I heard a thump, followed by "Oh My God" screams, followed by "CODE!" When I turned around, I saw my mom on the ground. I vaguely heard someone say, "she's not breathing." WHAT THE FUCK? Are you kidding me?
I ran over and calmly sat down while I watched a dozen nurses and doctors work on my mom. It's important to note that she didn't ever stop breathing, she just passed out from the pain. I remember some random lady rubbing my back asking me if I was OK-- I must have turned white as a ghost. It was completely an out of body experience because I sort of remember looking at things from another angle. As if it were a dream but it wasn't.
They lifted my mom onto the gurney and rolled her into the back to examine her and do an EKG. ...this is where it gets really, really, really bad. Per usual, I was breathing at a normal pace... then I was breathing fast.... and then faster.... and then faster.... now I'm hyperventilating to the point of feeling dizzy. I remember trying to focus on breathing in and out but it was completely out of my control by this point. Everyone around me was asking, "are you OK?" --- hmmm, let's see..... I'M HYPERVENTILATING SO CLEARLY NO, I'M NOT OK YOU ASSCLOWNS.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing and saying, "I can't do this anymore......" That's all I could manage to get out of my mouth. I was having a complete and total meltdown. For the first time in three months, I was being honest, out loud, about my feelings. I wasn't hiding behind some thin veil of a positive attitude. I wasn't allowing my guilt of selfishness to hold me back from expressing myself. I really can't do it anymore. I'm tired of worrying all the time.... Every moment of every day is is filled with me worrying about my mom dying. Yeah, I know, unhealthy.....
A nurse from the back appeared from no where and while I was sitting there sobbing, she put her arms around me. She clearly had children because I could feel the maternal-ness (is that a word???) from her. I completely allowed myself to fall into her arms and cry for what seemed like hours. I had been carrying this weight with me for so long and it felt so good to just let go.
She kept telling me that I didn't need to try and fix this. That I didn't need to carry this responsibility anymore. It was time for me to ask for help because there was plenty of people who could help me. Well, that's never been my strong suit. People come to me for support, for help, for a shoulder to lean on.... I don't know how to do that, which is why I have panic attacks.
After the panic attack, I was numb. I was tired. I am tired.
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