This year, my darling husband decided to institute a new tradition. Rather than simply having everyone state what they were thankful for, he had us all tell each other what why we were thankful for them personally. He asked the person being talked about to sit facing away from the group and not say anything, so there would be less awkwardness and no chance to argue or downplay the nice things being said about them. Instead we had to sit quietly and just accept how much everyone loved us. You would think we would have all jumped at the chance to have our egos stroked like this, but everyone was humbly reluctant and uncomfortable, especially MS’s old-school grandfather, who we made go first. He is not one to emote or take compliments easily, so he resisted this “navel-contemplating” exercise, but finally submitted when we told him he couldn’t have any of my freshly-baked-from-scratch pumpkin and apple pies until this was done.
We started telling Poppy why we were thankful for him, beginning with his daughter, my mother-in-law. MS originally wanted to limit the time spent on each person to three minutes, but by the time she was finished talking about how much she loved her father and why, three minutes had passed and the rest of us hadn’t even spoken. So it took awhile, but it was worth it and we all enjoyed talking about why we were thankful for everyone. It is such a habit for me, and everyone, I think, to be picky and critical of others, to complain and find fault. I found it very uplifting and healing to focus on only the good in each person and being able to let them know how much I love them and why was something that I haven’t previously been comfortable doing, especially with my in-laws. We were all touched by the nice things said about us, and I was surprised at how they all perceive me, it is different than how I see myself, as I said, I tend to be a little critical of everyone but the absolute hardest on myself.
We all enjoyed the pie we earned and then MS and I headed to dinner at a restaurant with my family. When we got home we told them the same thing-we have to do this before you get pie. After a few groans and protests, my family also agreed. We started with my grandmother, then my dad, mother, sister, then Michael-Scott, and finally me. I was in tears nearly the entire time. When my father spoke he told me how I was so special to him because I was the one that made him a father, and that being a dad was the best thing he’s done in his life and it is so amazing. I cried because I was touched by what he said, but also because I know being a parent is one of life’s highest callings, it’s all I want, and I’m still so terrified that I might never be a mother. Overall though, it was an amazing experience. I am so grateful to my husband for suggesting this, it made the holiday so much more meaningful to everyone and brought us all closer by allowing us to express how we felt and appreciate and share love for one another in a way that we rarely do. I have never felt so much love for and so much love from my family as I do now, and I hope that their experience was similarly uplifting.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Bad Timing
When we first started dating, my husband and I talked about how our relationship was a bit like the movie When Harry Met Sally. They were best friends, had a lot in common, had this great chemistry, but they could never get their timing right for their relationship to work until the end.
Our relationship had been similar. I met my husband many years ago because I was dating one of his friends. My boyfriend at the time introduced me to all his friends and the instant I saw my husband I felt that butterfly-in-the-stomach nervous sense of excitement you get before giving a speech or, I would imagine, jumping out of an airplane. He made me nervous and excited I thought he was gorgeous. I won’t claim it was love at first sight, but it was something. Of course, I was happily dating his friend, and he was a good guy who would not actively pursue his friend’s girlfriend. Especially after I broke up with that boyfriend and dated yet another one of his friends. But he was always there, being cute and inexplicably frustrating me. I was always overly critical of his girlfriends and secretly thought that none of them were good enough for him. I was too dense to realize it was because I thought only I was good enough for him and honestly felt like there was no potential for a relationship between us, he just wasn’t right for me and I didn’t waste any time thinking about us ever being together.
It took us many years of sexual tension, late night talks and incessantly teasing and arguing with each other before we finally figured out we were meant to be together. The timing had never been right, but when it was it was amazing and we had that weird, movie magic moment of realizing that the right person had been there all along.
Now I feel again like my life is being consumed by timing and missed opportunities. I thought our timing was so awesome-we got pregnant right when we wanted to and it came at such a wonderful time for our family-what better news to temper my mom's diagnosis than the news of a new baby? The timing seemed perfect, and when I went through the loss one of the worst parts of it was dealing with it and with my mom, worrying that we might not get another chance for her to have a grandchild. The timing couldn't have been worse.
I am hoping that the same happily ever after end result that applied to my dating life will someday apply to my reproductive one as well. I hope that, as some of my well-meaning friends try to tell me, someday I’ll look at my family and realize it was all meant to happen the way it did, and that I’ll love my kids so much I’ll know that there was a reason why I went through this loss. I hope they’re right. It’s hard to imagine when you’re still waiting, trying and hoping.
Right now I just feel frustrated and upset that I should be big, pregnant, well into my third trimester and ready to pop early next year, and instead I’m losing weight, nowhere near pregnant and once again suffering at the hands of bad timing. MS is traveling so much for work, he is gone when I need him to be here. We’ve only been able to start trying again since last month, and it did not work, so this month I had a lot of hopes pinned on getting pregnant and having happy news to share with the family at Christmas, but, due to more bad timing, it’s not looking so good. I know I need to be patient but the idea that I’ll reach my first baby’s due date and still not be pregnant is upsetting and discouraging. I don’t know how I will handle that, except that I have seen so many other women handle that, or worse, with strength and grace, I hope I can be that strong, if I have to. More than that I hope I don’t have to face it at all.
Our relationship had been similar. I met my husband many years ago because I was dating one of his friends. My boyfriend at the time introduced me to all his friends and the instant I saw my husband I felt that butterfly-in-the-stomach nervous sense of excitement you get before giving a speech or, I would imagine, jumping out of an airplane. He made me nervous and excited I thought he was gorgeous. I won’t claim it was love at first sight, but it was something. Of course, I was happily dating his friend, and he was a good guy who would not actively pursue his friend’s girlfriend. Especially after I broke up with that boyfriend and dated yet another one of his friends. But he was always there, being cute and inexplicably frustrating me. I was always overly critical of his girlfriends and secretly thought that none of them were good enough for him. I was too dense to realize it was because I thought only I was good enough for him and honestly felt like there was no potential for a relationship between us, he just wasn’t right for me and I didn’t waste any time thinking about us ever being together.
It took us many years of sexual tension, late night talks and incessantly teasing and arguing with each other before we finally figured out we were meant to be together. The timing had never been right, but when it was it was amazing and we had that weird, movie magic moment of realizing that the right person had been there all along.
Now I feel again like my life is being consumed by timing and missed opportunities. I thought our timing was so awesome-we got pregnant right when we wanted to and it came at such a wonderful time for our family-what better news to temper my mom's diagnosis than the news of a new baby? The timing seemed perfect, and when I went through the loss one of the worst parts of it was dealing with it and with my mom, worrying that we might not get another chance for her to have a grandchild. The timing couldn't have been worse.
I am hoping that the same happily ever after end result that applied to my dating life will someday apply to my reproductive one as well. I hope that, as some of my well-meaning friends try to tell me, someday I’ll look at my family and realize it was all meant to happen the way it did, and that I’ll love my kids so much I’ll know that there was a reason why I went through this loss. I hope they’re right. It’s hard to imagine when you’re still waiting, trying and hoping.
Right now I just feel frustrated and upset that I should be big, pregnant, well into my third trimester and ready to pop early next year, and instead I’m losing weight, nowhere near pregnant and once again suffering at the hands of bad timing. MS is traveling so much for work, he is gone when I need him to be here. We’ve only been able to start trying again since last month, and it did not work, so this month I had a lot of hopes pinned on getting pregnant and having happy news to share with the family at Christmas, but, due to more bad timing, it’s not looking so good. I know I need to be patient but the idea that I’ll reach my first baby’s due date and still not be pregnant is upsetting and discouraging. I don’t know how I will handle that, except that I have seen so many other women handle that, or worse, with strength and grace, I hope I can be that strong, if I have to. More than that I hope I don’t have to face it at all.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
A story with two happy endings.
When I posted on Facebook on Oct. 15 for National Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness day, I was pleasantly surprised to find a message in my inbox from my mother’s former best friend. The two of them were close from childhood on, and I grew up calling this woman Auntie and playing with her daughters, one who was my age and one a few years younger. Fifteen years ago she and my mother had a falling out for reasons I don’t know and that are none of my business anyway.
This woman contacted me to share with me that she too had experienced two losses. She was understanding and compassionate towards me and understood my pain. I was touched that she reached out to me and shared with her how my mom was doing. Obviously, she was upset to hear my mother had been suffering with breast cancer and asked me if she could contact my mother and try to reconcile. I told my mother what happened and she started crying and showed me a card that she had started to write to her friend but had yet to send. She was thrilled that her friend was open to reconnecting.
Earlier this week, the two former best friends got together for the first time in a decade and a half. They spent hours catching up and talking about what had transpired in their lives since they’d lost touch. My mother told me a story that both haunts and inspires and comforts me.
In addition to the two losses my mother’s friend told me about, she also lost a twin-a vanishing twin, as it is oddly termed-during her pregnancy with her younger daughter. She did not give it much thought, nor did she ever share this with her daughter.
When her daughter was in high school and going through a particularly tough time, she asked her mother if she had been a twin. Her mother asked her why she was asking and her daughter replied that she knew she had a twin because her twin brother always visited her and comforted her whenever she was sad. Her mother shared with her daughter the name she would have given her twin if he had lived.
I am blown away by this story, and while of course I am skeptical, part of me wants it to be true. I firmly believe in an afterlife, and the idea of a brother being there for his sister in spirit, even if not able to in body, is comforting and wonderful. It also reinforces my belief that life begins very early, and that a lost baby is a real child that has died, no matter how early in a pregnancy a loss occurs.
This woman contacted me to share with me that she too had experienced two losses. She was understanding and compassionate towards me and understood my pain. I was touched that she reached out to me and shared with her how my mom was doing. Obviously, she was upset to hear my mother had been suffering with breast cancer and asked me if she could contact my mother and try to reconcile. I told my mother what happened and she started crying and showed me a card that she had started to write to her friend but had yet to send. She was thrilled that her friend was open to reconnecting.
Earlier this week, the two former best friends got together for the first time in a decade and a half. They spent hours catching up and talking about what had transpired in their lives since they’d lost touch. My mother told me a story that both haunts and inspires and comforts me.
In addition to the two losses my mother’s friend told me about, she also lost a twin-a vanishing twin, as it is oddly termed-during her pregnancy with her younger daughter. She did not give it much thought, nor did she ever share this with her daughter.
When her daughter was in high school and going through a particularly tough time, she asked her mother if she had been a twin. Her mother asked her why she was asking and her daughter replied that she knew she had a twin because her twin brother always visited her and comforted her whenever she was sad. Her mother shared with her daughter the name she would have given her twin if he had lived.
I am blown away by this story, and while of course I am skeptical, part of me wants it to be true. I firmly believe in an afterlife, and the idea of a brother being there for his sister in spirit, even if not able to in body, is comforting and wonderful. It also reinforces my belief that life begins very early, and that a lost baby is a real child that has died, no matter how early in a pregnancy a loss occurs.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
You're Not Shaken
The lyrics to this song really hit home for me with the events of the past year.
You're Not Shaken by Phil Stacey
I am sinking in the river that is raging
I am drowning
Will I ever, rise to breathe again
I wanna know why
I just wanna understand
Will I ever know why?
How could this be from Your hand?
When every little thing that I dream of being just slips away
like water through my hands
And when it seems the walls of my beliefs come crashing down
like they're all made of sand
I won't let go of You now
because I know, oh, You're not shaken
I am trembling in the darkness of my own fear
All the questions with no answers
So grip me while I'm here
And I may never know why
Oh I may not understand
But I will lift up my eyes,
and trust this is Your plan
When I am in the valley
of the shadow of death
You're not shaken
You're not shaken
You're right here beside me and
You have never left
You're not shaken
You're not shaken
You're Not Shaken by Phil Stacey
I am sinking in the river that is raging
I am drowning
Will I ever, rise to breathe again
I wanna know why
I just wanna understand
Will I ever know why?
How could this be from Your hand?
When every little thing that I dream of being just slips away
like water through my hands
And when it seems the walls of my beliefs come crashing down
like they're all made of sand
I won't let go of You now
because I know, oh, You're not shaken
I am trembling in the darkness of my own fear
All the questions with no answers
So grip me while I'm here
And I may never know why
Oh I may not understand
But I will lift up my eyes,
and trust this is Your plan
When I am in the valley
of the shadow of death
You're not shaken
You're not shaken
You're right here beside me and
You have never left
You're not shaken
You're not shaken
Monday, October 18, 2010
Outlook: much, much better!
We recently found out that my mom had some brain tumors. The words cancer and tumors are scary enough, but combine them with brain and you’ve got something downright terrifying. We waited and hoped and prayed and spent time together all weekend in anticipation of her consultation with yet another doctor today. We were scared she wouldn’t be treatable. We were scared the radiation would make her too sick to fight the cancer everywhere else. We were afraid that the treatment would leave her radioactive and not able to be around her trying to conceive (and hopefully soon pregnant) daughter (that would be me!).
Today all of our fears were alleviated. Of course I’d prefer that there was nothing wrong with her in the first place, but considering that she has cancer and brain tumors, this is good news. Her doctor explained that brain tumors sound so scary but with recent advances they are so treatable that you could almost say they have a cure because the treatment works so well. They just can't call it a cure because the tumors can return and you often have to continue treatment later.
She has 8 or more small tumors all over her brain. They caught them all early. She has to go in for general radiation of her whole brain 5 days a week for 3 weeks. This should prevent new tumors from coming in. Then she has to have targeted radiation to attack the specific tumors, this will be 2 or 3 times, and takes about 6 hours each time.
During the 3 weeks she has to stop chemo, but she was doing so well with that that her oncologist is confident about her being okay with a 3 week break. She also cannot drive and so we are trying to coordinate that, but my sister should be able to handle most of the driving.
And, the doctor said I can be around her because the radioactivity leaves her body almost immediately so she is not dangerous to pregnant women (again, I am not currently pregnant, just trying to get there so we are being extra cautious!). He said I should not go to the facility, and my mom is so worried she doesn't even want me driving her and going near the treatment center. But at least I don't have to avoid her altogether for the next 3 weeks, which we feared. And it’s only 3 weeks, we also feared it would be another year of treatment like the chemo.
Today all of our fears were alleviated. Of course I’d prefer that there was nothing wrong with her in the first place, but considering that she has cancer and brain tumors, this is good news. Her doctor explained that brain tumors sound so scary but with recent advances they are so treatable that you could almost say they have a cure because the treatment works so well. They just can't call it a cure because the tumors can return and you often have to continue treatment later.
She has 8 or more small tumors all over her brain. They caught them all early. She has to go in for general radiation of her whole brain 5 days a week for 3 weeks. This should prevent new tumors from coming in. Then she has to have targeted radiation to attack the specific tumors, this will be 2 or 3 times, and takes about 6 hours each time.
During the 3 weeks she has to stop chemo, but she was doing so well with that that her oncologist is confident about her being okay with a 3 week break. She also cannot drive and so we are trying to coordinate that, but my sister should be able to handle most of the driving.
And, the doctor said I can be around her because the radioactivity leaves her body almost immediately so she is not dangerous to pregnant women (again, I am not currently pregnant, just trying to get there so we are being extra cautious!). He said I should not go to the facility, and my mom is so worried she doesn't even want me driving her and going near the treatment center. But at least I don't have to avoid her altogether for the next 3 weeks, which we feared. And it’s only 3 weeks, we also feared it would be another year of treatment like the chemo.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope
Today is National Pregnancy/Infant Loss Awareness Day. Please visit www.iamtheface.org and support this worthy cause.
If you are a mother to a living child, please honor those of us who are mothers only to angels today by being grateful that you have your child here with you. If you are pregnant, please take a day to enjoy it, and don’t complain about how hard it is to have morning sickness or any of the other signs that mean you are going to have a healthy baby. Please keep in mind that some of us would love to be in your shoes, swollen ankles and all.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Scared
So things were looking up, everything was going well. I was excited that we finally reached the third cycle required to start trying again for a baby. I had a doctor’s appointment and my OB is happy, everything looks fine and we are good to go.
My mom’s arm got better very quickly, the swelling went back down to what it was before and her skin is much better. Her hair is still going but she has a great sense of humor about it. She even bought a “wig” which gave her a bright purple Mohawk.
Today I found out, through my grandmother, because my mother likes to keep things from me so I won’t worry, that she has been having trouble seeing and is going into the hospital tomorrow for an MRI to see if she has a brain tumor. We’re not panicking yet, it could be something else, and it could be operable and no big deal.
So far she has done much better than any of the doctors predicted and beaten the odds at every turn. But hearing brain and tumor together leave me pretty scared. I feel completely helpless and overwhelmed. I believe in prayer and I am praying for her, but after what happened to my baby, despite my desperate prayers, after what I have seen happen to so many other worthy mothers, it is hard to keep my faith strong. There is nothing I want more than to be able to tell her she is going to be a grandma again, and to actually bring a baby into this world for our family to love.
The thought that she might not be here long enough to meet her grandchild breaks my heart, for me, for her, and for my future child who might never know her love. I am comforted only by the hope that things will be okay and the knowledge that she does have a grandchild waiting for her in Heaven if she has to go soon.
My mom’s arm got better very quickly, the swelling went back down to what it was before and her skin is much better. Her hair is still going but she has a great sense of humor about it. She even bought a “wig” which gave her a bright purple Mohawk.
Today I found out, through my grandmother, because my mother likes to keep things from me so I won’t worry, that she has been having trouble seeing and is going into the hospital tomorrow for an MRI to see if she has a brain tumor. We’re not panicking yet, it could be something else, and it could be operable and no big deal.
So far she has done much better than any of the doctors predicted and beaten the odds at every turn. But hearing brain and tumor together leave me pretty scared. I feel completely helpless and overwhelmed. I believe in prayer and I am praying for her, but after what happened to my baby, despite my desperate prayers, after what I have seen happen to so many other worthy mothers, it is hard to keep my faith strong. There is nothing I want more than to be able to tell her she is going to be a grandma again, and to actually bring a baby into this world for our family to love.
The thought that she might not be here long enough to meet her grandchild breaks my heart, for me, for her, and for my future child who might never know her love. I am comforted only by the hope that things will be okay and the knowledge that she does have a grandchild waiting for her in Heaven if she has to go soon.
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