October 15, 2009
I woke up around 4:00 a.m. this morning. After a brief stint of can I get back to sleep or should I get up and enjoy the morning? I decided to get up. So here I sit, waiting for my coffee to cool to a drinkable degree and pondering what I want to write about. I could chit-chat about the goings on of my week or about the upcoming anniversary of the creation of my j-pouch, but what's really going on in my head today is doubt.
I know that every parent has doubts, even while they are actually in the act of parenting (especially while they are in the act of parenting), but yesterday I was plagued by doubts of Jeremy and my ability to parent. I guess that's not an accurate statement. It's not that I doubt our ability to parent, it's that I fear what parenting will do to our marriage. That sounds so grim and like I doubt our marriage, which I don't. I guess it's that my marriage is the most important thing in the world to me and I worry about throwing the balance that we've found off. What if we lose what we've got by adding this new, huge, profound element?
Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking: But parenting together could also make your marriage better, deeper, stronger. I know. (Self dialogue: Stop being so negative Abby. Why can't you just relax already?) And usually that's what I focus on, all the wonderful things parenting together will add to us. But yesterday the fears crept in.
But this process I'm going through is completely normal - right? Our marriage has ups and downs right now and it will continue to do so when we have another member of our family. We know how to do this marriage thing. So there will be new factors, new challenges we have to work out together. We know how to do that. We aren't afraid of working on things. Quite the contrary. We both know the work is what makes it so good. So really, we just need to keep on doing what we're doing now. Things will be okay. Or even better than okay, Abby.
Alright. I feel better now. Thanks.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
My request
October 13, 2009
Okay folks. This is it. This is the blog entry where I am going to pull all the stops in advocating for you to take action to help with something very important. I might even play on your emotions a little. So you've been warned, okay? (smile)
I was hospitalized in 2008 (for those of you who haven't read my blog from the beginning) because my colon was diseased with Ulcerative Colitis. My colon was entirely covered with ulcers (I know, I saw pictures of it after it was removed) which bled every time I had a bowel movement. At the time, I was having anywhere between 17 and 24 bowel movements a day. Needless to say, I lost a lot of blood. During my lengthy hospitalization I had five blood transfusions and two plasma transfusions. I would not be here today if others had not donated blood and plasma. (Are you getting where I'm going with this?)
So here's the unabashed play on your emotions: If you are a family member or friend of mine who followed what was happening with me when I was sick and you felt helpless to do anything, it's not too late! You can still do something to help others like me. You can GIVE BLOOD! If you are someone who has just stumbled upon this blog, don't worry, you too can give blood!
Are you getting all nervous just thinking about it? Yes, it will be a little uncomfortable, but I can promise you that you won't die in the process!! When they poke you with the needle, just think, "Abby had things like this and worse happen to her numerous times every day. I can do it this once!" Take your whole family and make an event of it! Teach your children how they can save lives when they get older! Coordinate a group of friends going together to donate and go out for desserts afterward! However you choose to do it - donate blood!!
Another promise - I will give you a big THANK YOU on my blog when you donate! So please, let me know when you've donated! For more information visit www.givelife.org.
(Thanks for putting up with me.)
Okay folks. This is it. This is the blog entry where I am going to pull all the stops in advocating for you to take action to help with something very important. I might even play on your emotions a little. So you've been warned, okay? (smile)
I was hospitalized in 2008 (for those of you who haven't read my blog from the beginning) because my colon was diseased with Ulcerative Colitis. My colon was entirely covered with ulcers (I know, I saw pictures of it after it was removed) which bled every time I had a bowel movement. At the time, I was having anywhere between 17 and 24 bowel movements a day. Needless to say, I lost a lot of blood. During my lengthy hospitalization I had five blood transfusions and two plasma transfusions. I would not be here today if others had not donated blood and plasma. (Are you getting where I'm going with this?)
So here's the unabashed play on your emotions: If you are a family member or friend of mine who followed what was happening with me when I was sick and you felt helpless to do anything, it's not too late! You can still do something to help others like me. You can GIVE BLOOD! If you are someone who has just stumbled upon this blog, don't worry, you too can give blood!
Are you getting all nervous just thinking about it? Yes, it will be a little uncomfortable, but I can promise you that you won't die in the process!! When they poke you with the needle, just think, "Abby had things like this and worse happen to her numerous times every day. I can do it this once!" Take your whole family and make an event of it! Teach your children how they can save lives when they get older! Coordinate a group of friends going together to donate and go out for desserts afterward! However you choose to do it - donate blood!!
Another promise - I will give you a big THANK YOU on my blog when you donate! So please, let me know when you've donated! For more information visit www.givelife.org.
(Thanks for putting up with me.)
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I hope she knows
October 11, 2009
There are moments where the sadness at not being able to mother a child washes over me. I had a few of those moments one morning this past week. I cried on my way in to work. I thought I could pull it together as I logged in to my computer, but no dice. The tears kept coming. I didn't weep. I was just quietly sad. I sent Jeremy an e-mail. "How long will I have to wait?" I told him how I know I'm going to be a great mother. He e-mailed me back. He said he knew it too, and that our time would come. He told me that when the time comes, we won't even remember this time. He said that now is the time for me to enjoy the things that I won't get to enjoy as frequently after we have a child. He told me to take long naps, go shopping, eat leisurely meals, etc. I felt understood and I was glad I turned to him for comfort.
There's been a balance Jeremy and I have had to find in grieving. We both would have become overwhelmed had we been the only support and comfort for each other through all this stuff. On the other hand, we also needed to let each other in on our processes. We had to feel understood by each other. It's a balance. Any couple that has dealt with stuff like this knows what I'm talking about. It's another dynamic that we've had to figure out that really, in all honesty, it could have been our ruin. And it's because we've had such great support from family and friends that we haven't ended in ruin too.
Today is a perfect example of why I love Tucson so much. It's been a perfect, glorious day. Jeremy and I woke up and went for a walk together. When we got to the park he ran a little and I kept walking. We got home and I felt so good. Jeremy had plans to meet a friend to play some tennis, so I decided to do something I haven't done in a very long time. I went to church. But I didn't go to what most people think of as church. I went to a Society of Friends Meeting (Quakers).
We sat in silence, meditating, praying, contemplating for nearly an hour before anyone said anything. The game my grandma used to paly with us when we were kids kept going through my head: "Quakers' meeting has begun. No more laughing, no more fun, no more chewing bubble gum. Crack a smile, walk a mile. Quakers' meeting has begun - now!" Did you ever play that "game?" It's a tricky little game (or contest to be silent) that adults use to keep kids quiet. It works up to a certain age, so long as the kids aren't trying to make each other laugh. But even then it's fun. Anyway . . . I digress.
The pamphlet I was given when I entered had an article in it about appreciating children and respecting and honoring the gifts they give us. It was a sweet article and made me smile. At the end of the meeting the kids joined the adults in the meeting room. All the kids except one were quiet. The one was probably about two years old and was crying. He cried all the way to his mother's lap where she held him and cuddled him and he stopped crying. I smiled and my eyes welled up with tears. That's what I want. That right there is why I want to mother a child. I want to the be the comfort for the sadness of a little soul. How long will I wait? I hope she knows what a gift she has sitting in her lap. I hope she's not embarrassed by the noise he made. I hope she knows . . .
There are moments where the sadness at not being able to mother a child washes over me. I had a few of those moments one morning this past week. I cried on my way in to work. I thought I could pull it together as I logged in to my computer, but no dice. The tears kept coming. I didn't weep. I was just quietly sad. I sent Jeremy an e-mail. "How long will I have to wait?" I told him how I know I'm going to be a great mother. He e-mailed me back. He said he knew it too, and that our time would come. He told me that when the time comes, we won't even remember this time. He said that now is the time for me to enjoy the things that I won't get to enjoy as frequently after we have a child. He told me to take long naps, go shopping, eat leisurely meals, etc. I felt understood and I was glad I turned to him for comfort.
There's been a balance Jeremy and I have had to find in grieving. We both would have become overwhelmed had we been the only support and comfort for each other through all this stuff. On the other hand, we also needed to let each other in on our processes. We had to feel understood by each other. It's a balance. Any couple that has dealt with stuff like this knows what I'm talking about. It's another dynamic that we've had to figure out that really, in all honesty, it could have been our ruin. And it's because we've had such great support from family and friends that we haven't ended in ruin too.
Today is a perfect example of why I love Tucson so much. It's been a perfect, glorious day. Jeremy and I woke up and went for a walk together. When we got to the park he ran a little and I kept walking. We got home and I felt so good. Jeremy had plans to meet a friend to play some tennis, so I decided to do something I haven't done in a very long time. I went to church. But I didn't go to what most people think of as church. I went to a Society of Friends Meeting (Quakers).
We sat in silence, meditating, praying, contemplating for nearly an hour before anyone said anything. The game my grandma used to paly with us when we were kids kept going through my head: "Quakers' meeting has begun. No more laughing, no more fun, no more chewing bubble gum. Crack a smile, walk a mile. Quakers' meeting has begun - now!" Did you ever play that "game?" It's a tricky little game (or contest to be silent) that adults use to keep kids quiet. It works up to a certain age, so long as the kids aren't trying to make each other laugh. But even then it's fun. Anyway . . . I digress.
The pamphlet I was given when I entered had an article in it about appreciating children and respecting and honoring the gifts they give us. It was a sweet article and made me smile. At the end of the meeting the kids joined the adults in the meeting room. All the kids except one were quiet. The one was probably about two years old and was crying. He cried all the way to his mother's lap where she held him and cuddled him and he stopped crying. I smiled and my eyes welled up with tears. That's what I want. That right there is why I want to mother a child. I want to the be the comfort for the sadness of a little soul. How long will I wait? I hope she knows what a gift she has sitting in her lap. I hope she's not embarrassed by the noise he made. I hope she knows . . .
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!
October 7, 2009
Out of nowhere, for whatever reason, yesterday was a day of reflection and gratitude for me. All day long I thought about things I used to have a hard time doing: eating certain foods, sleeping in a comfortable position, wearing certain clothes, showering, going to the bathroom (!), etc., etc. I thought about all the doctors and nurses that played a part in me even being here today and I felt overwhelmed. I want to run up and down the halls of the hospitals I spent so much time in and yell, "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" Do they even know? I doubt that they do.
I wrote letters to my main doctors to thank them. I've sent e-mails to my surgeons letting them know how well I'm doing. What more can I do? I've thought about baking yummy treats and taking them to each of the floors I stayed on in the hospital, but I don't know that the nurses and techs would even remember me. Well just so you know, I'm open to suggestions or ideas!
Out of nowhere, for whatever reason, yesterday was a day of reflection and gratitude for me. All day long I thought about things I used to have a hard time doing: eating certain foods, sleeping in a comfortable position, wearing certain clothes, showering, going to the bathroom (!), etc., etc. I thought about all the doctors and nurses that played a part in me even being here today and I felt overwhelmed. I want to run up and down the halls of the hospitals I spent so much time in and yell, "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" Do they even know? I doubt that they do.
I wrote letters to my main doctors to thank them. I've sent e-mails to my surgeons letting them know how well I'm doing. What more can I do? I've thought about baking yummy treats and taking them to each of the floors I stayed on in the hospital, but I don't know that the nurses and techs would even remember me. Well just so you know, I'm open to suggestions or ideas!
Monday, October 5, 2009
I still weep in my dreams
October 5, 2009
It's a strange thing to weep in your dreams. Have you ever done that? I don't know that I ever had before I lost Harper. But since then, it's something that happens to me from time to time.
Friday evening I got home from work and was so tired. "I just need to take a short nap, and then I'll get up and pack for our camping trip," I told Jeremy as I snuggled into the blankets on the couch. The news was on the TV. And as I began to drift, a story caught my attention. It was the story of the miracle baby. Did you see that? A little girl was born and weighed just under one pound. She survived and was finally going home. They showed pictures of her when she was born. And there before me on the TV was Harper. She too was just under one pound when she was born. She too had the same little skinny legs and arms. She too was fully developed. But Harper, she lacked the life blood that this little miracle baby had flowing through her. And then I drifted . . .
It wasn't till the next day that I remembered my dream. In it I was sobbing, telling people that Harper was just like the miracle baby, only Harper didn't live. "Why couldn't my baby live?" I sobbed. There were others in my dream that I was talking to, but I couldn't hear anything but my own sobs.
It's been a while since I really wept over Harper in my waking life. Tears escape here and there in conversations with loved ones. I might get misty eyed thinking about her, but I still weep in my dreams. I still weep in my dreams.
It's a strange thing to weep in your dreams. Have you ever done that? I don't know that I ever had before I lost Harper. But since then, it's something that happens to me from time to time.
Friday evening I got home from work and was so tired. "I just need to take a short nap, and then I'll get up and pack for our camping trip," I told Jeremy as I snuggled into the blankets on the couch. The news was on the TV. And as I began to drift, a story caught my attention. It was the story of the miracle baby. Did you see that? A little girl was born and weighed just under one pound. She survived and was finally going home. They showed pictures of her when she was born. And there before me on the TV was Harper. She too was just under one pound when she was born. She too had the same little skinny legs and arms. She too was fully developed. But Harper, she lacked the life blood that this little miracle baby had flowing through her. And then I drifted . . .
It wasn't till the next day that I remembered my dream. In it I was sobbing, telling people that Harper was just like the miracle baby, only Harper didn't live. "Why couldn't my baby live?" I sobbed. There were others in my dream that I was talking to, but I couldn't hear anything but my own sobs.
It's been a while since I really wept over Harper in my waking life. Tears escape here and there in conversations with loved ones. I might get misty eyed thinking about her, but I still weep in my dreams. I still weep in my dreams.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
