The Eve of Christmas Eve

Happy almost Christmas Eve! We are traveling on Christmas Day again (well, that's the plan anyway. It is snowing pretty hard right now so we will see.) The guys opened most their gifts from us on Saturday. Hope did too, she loves her Leapster Violet, but she obviously doesn't get it yet. I didn't want them to open the gifts quite so early, but I haven't been up to fighting about much lately which is also why we are flying out Christmas Day. The guys convinced Jim to let them open their gifts last week when Grandma Z came over with her gifts. We are all going to be together in NC, but why bring all the gifts out there to open and then haul them back? Makes no sense, so last year and this year we had a family Christmas with Grandma Nancy and then another with the rest of the fam in NC. The guys really wanted to open their gifts from us that day so they could play with them before we left. And I gave in.

My mom's birthday was Christmas Day, have I ever mentioned that? My birthday is the 18th of December, exactly a week before Mom's. When I was a kid, Mom did a good job of recognizing my birthday as equally as she did everyone else's. JJ's birthday is December 27, I think she would say the same thing. Not that birthdays were huge at our house. We would get a gift or two, a birthday cake, and the day off from any chores. I remember having friends over night in the middle of the summer since it never worked to have them overnight in December. I really don't remember feeling short shifted as a kid. As an adult, it's been a little different since there is always some commitment I HAVE to attend, Christmas pageant, extended family celebration, work party, always something.

Last year was different though. Jim and the guys had already flown to NC. I couldn't leave yet because my contract does not allow me to take personal days before a holiday break. So I spent a couple days alone in my house. Just me and Hope and she was still inside, I was 16 weeks or so pregnant. I adore my family, but a couple of days alone in my house was wonderful! I actually had my grades turned in early (first and only time that has happened). My birthday was the last day of school before break. I watched movies with my students; some gave me gifts. I left work at noon to meet Mom and Dad at Mom's favorite Chinese restaurant here in town. Then Dad dropped Mom and me off at my doctor's office. He did some Christmas shopping at Wal-mart while Mom went to my regular check up with me. It was just one of those quick check ins, but Mom got to hear the baby's heartbeat. She got a kick out of that, as far as I know, Hope is the only grandchild whose heartbeat she heard in vitro.

The Mom and Dad drove me to the city to the north and dropped me off at the airport. I started a new book on the flight, I flew all alone. My hubby picked me up at the NC airport and I got to see my guys before going to bed.

It was probably my best "adult" birthday. It was also the last "normal" day I spent with my mom.

A day for me

I took Thursday off from work just because I needed a day. I felt like I was drowning both at home and at work and I just... needed...a...day. I felt a bit guilty. Cali is not doing well (another post I can't even think of starting right now) and I will definitely be going out to California at least once if not twice in the next couple months and I feel bad just taking a random day off, but I needed it.

It was a lovely day. I had to get up to take the guys to school and Hope to daycare. Yes, I was home and I took Hope to daycare. As I said, I needed a day. I'm glad I had to get up to take them, it would have been easy to sleep the day away. I cleaned my kitchen, cleared off counters that haven't seen sunlight in a loonngg time. Didn't get into the cupboards, maybe next time. My MIL came over and we did some on line shopping. Up to that point, I'd bought one thing for Christmas.
I got to drink coffee and watch The View. I did some organizing, some laundry, and talked to my sister Jill while I was doing it. I picked up the kiddos early and we went to the biggish city to the south and had their picture taken with Santa. And we did some shopping together, always an adventure. The guys had appointments with JJ, who happens to be their occupational therapist. Afterwords we went the her house. Her son G and Joey are bestest friends, I think Joe was more excited to have supper at their house than he was about seeing Santa.

One area I organized was my recipe drawer. You have one of those right? When I find a recipe I like, I tear it out of the magazine, or whatever, and through it in the drawer. I decided I wanted to store something else in the current recipe drawer. If I was going to empty the drawer, I may as well organize it. So I filled a 3 ring binder with page protectors and I started sorting!

Besides the magazine recipes, there were some printed from on-line sources, and some handwritten. Mostly written in my quick scrawl, but some were in my mom's neat cursive. She had really beautiful handwriting. Mine can be neat if I take the time, but Mom's was always lovely. She didn't write often, I think the fact that several of her daughters were English majors was bewildering to her. She was proud of us, but it was not something she could imagine doing. So finding the recipe cards touched my heart.

I also found some cookie cutters she'd given me. In a plastic bag, with the two old tin cookie cutters, was a note. "Gina, These cookie cutters were my REAL mothers. I'd like you to have them. Love Mom" Mom's mother died when Mom was 16. Grandpa remarried a month after my parents were married. Grandma Nancy was the only grandmother I knew on that side, but we all knew she was Mom's step mother. As far as I ever knew, they got along great. But when Mom talked about her mother, she always put an emphasis on "real". So when she gave me the cutters, her capitalization amused me. Now it feels like her voice.

Mom baked a lot. I guess she enjoyed it, although I think it was more about enjoying the eating part. When I was growing up, we almost always had some kind of baked good in the house, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, no egg chocolate cake, or some such thing. I thought everyone did. Mom didn't get real fancy with her baking, some time she frosted the brownies, but often not. I only remember decorating cookies together a time or two when I was growing up. Maybe she did it more with the older kids. She was pretty busy after the last four were born in less than four years. I think she also baked when we were all at home because her simple brownies and cookies were cheaper than snacks at the store. We had a sweet for bedtime snack almost every night growing up.

As we got older, she still baked, although not as often. But if she came to my house to care for my kiddos she almost always baked with them. She didn't bake with me often growing up. I remember when Mom decided it was time for me to learn to bake. She got all the ingredients out, showed me where the measuring utensils were, handed me the recipe, and left the room. She told me to holler if I needed help, but it she stayed in the room she would end up taking over for me. Mom knew her strengths, and teaching baking wasn't one of them. Nor was teaching driving, but that's a story for another time.

I fancy myself to be a domestic goddess. I'm not, but I fancy myself to be. I will go months without touching my Kitchen Aid mixer, except to make my much loved pizza dough. But then occasional I will go crazy with the baking. I always make homemade cinnamon rolls on snow days. Again, Mom was a bit bemused about my desire for from scratch deserts. Last December I was planning how to make cinnamon rolls for the family at our Christmas gathering and Mom responded with, "You can just buy those you know!" Man I miss that woman!

Fall

Hi, remember me? I'm still here. I was going to blame my long hiatus on going back to work, but since I didn't write at all during July, that wouldn't be completely honest.

We're doing okay here. Really, really busy. I thought I was busy before, now it is just nuts. Hope is a good baby, almost all the time. She likes people to pay attention to her. If she realizes she is alone in the room, she throws a fit until someone entertains her. After a couple rough months, nursing is going very smoothly. She's growing like a weed, rolling and sitting for very short periods of time. She is on her 4th cold since starting daycare in August. That's getting all sorts of old, but what cha gonna do?

The guys are doing well. Jon in 3rd grade and Joe in 1st. Jon has become a true reader. He read all 5 of the Percy Jackson books in just a couple weeks. I love catching him in a corner, devouring a book. And since Jon is spending more time reading, Joey has decided he should too. Love it when peer pressure works to my advantage!

Jim taught more a small private college in the biggish city to the south. His title change to "visiting instructor" and his pay was increased, woo hoo! But still no benies, boo! I think he enjoys what he's doing, all freshman English. I think he misses the English as a Second Language learners. They tend to be much more excited about learning than your typical Midwestern nineteen year old. But he feels appreciated there, and that helps.

And me you ask? I'm aright, I guess, most the time. I love teaching 8th grade English, much more than I'd anticipated. Love the books, the discussion, and even some of the attitudes. I rarely have to wonder what they are thinking for long. I really do love it.

But.... you knew that was coming right? I am so insanely busy. I know I started the post with that, but seriously I feel like that old chicken without it's head most the time. I work my tail off at work, and spend a some time chit chatting with adults, is that so bad? But I'm constantly behind on my grading and often my planning. And as for my house, sigh... I currently have two laundry rooms, the dirty one and the clean one, formally known as the family room. Every morning I send the guys downstairs to find clean socks and undies and often pants. They are not fans of said running.

A couple pics to sum up the last couple months.

In their Cowboy gear, although Joe has decided he is a Chiefs fan.
We still love him.

The Mario Brothers and a little monster.
The only picture I have of them on my camera was taken at the mall a couple days before the big day. I forgot to charge my camera battery for Halloween.

Me and my favorite God daughter, my only God daughter: )
My sister Jill's little girl the day after her baptism.
Again, I'd forgotten my camera on the big day: (

Hopester in her cousin's jumping thingy mabob.
You can't tell from this pic, but she loved it

The kids at the 2nd annual Friends' retreat at a near by state park.
The cabins are way nicer than my house.
Friday night was our friends and their kiddos.
Saturday was my book club.
Very different evenings, but both were great.
Forgot to take the camera out Saturday night, are you noticing a trend?

The BIG day.
The day my sister's foster children became her son and daughter.

My daughter and my niece, sleeping after Thanksgiving dinner.
Hallelujah and Amen

Take me to the water

I'm doing okay. Really I am, until I'm not. Sometimes it can feel just that sudden. Yesterday was one of those suddenly I'm not. My MIL and I were discussing Hope's baptism. I won't go into details, but we had different ideas on the ceremony. When I explained my thoughts, she looked crestfallen.

Okay, maybe I need a little detail. Children at our church are often baptised by more than just the pastor. When Joe was baptised, the pastor, deacon, Jim, I and even 3 year old Jon sprinkled water on him. MIL made a comment alluding to the fact that the aunts and uncles would be baptising Hope as well as the grandparents. Umm.... no. First of all, do you know how long that would take? My 5 siblings (Cali won't be making the trip back) plus their spouses. Then what about the 18 yr old nephew and the 16 yr old niece and at what age do you stop? Or just have a couple aunties and piss everyone else off? No, Jim and I had briefly discussed having his mom and my dad do it, but decided against it. We decide just the immediate family and the church personal would be sprinkling water. I don't think my dad would be comfortable doing it. Partly because he is a traditionalist and I think he believes only the minister should baptise and partly because he is not one to get up in front of a group of people.



When I made it clear to MIL that we were not planning on having anyone else baptise Hope, she looked very disappointed. She had assumed she would be. I want to mention, she did not baptise the guys and her other two grandchildren are not baptised (not that there's anything wrong with that). I'm just saying there was no precedent for her to assume she would be baptising Hope. I said I didn't think my dad would be comfortable baptising and she suggested I ask him. I know that is a very obvious suggestion, it just isn't a conversation I can imagine with my dad. I know I should be able to talk to him about it, but faith conversations were so Mom conversations. Hell, there were very few Dad conversations, buying a car, or other fiscal decisions, or yard work those were the limits of Dad conversations six months ago.

Then MIL suggested we have two baptisms, one public and one private. Hell to the no, that is not happening. I don't want a private baptism, the church and community has been so supportive, I want to share her special day with them. And it seems pointless to have two baptisms. At one point, having a private baptism had occurred to me. That Friday, when Dad called to tell me they had exhausted all treatment options for Mom, that Mom only had a couple weeks to live. I was 36 weeks pregnant at the time, off bedrest and cleared to give birth rather than try to stop it. I considered doing all I could to go into labor and then having Steve (my pastor) baptise her in Mom's hospice room. I'd even thought I would ask Sister Jill if she wanted Steve to baptise her daughter as well. But Sister Lu convinced me to "keep the baby cooking" as long as possible. And then I went to see Mom the next day and I knew even if I went into labor that day, Mom would not be there for her baptism. I didn't think she had a couple weeks (I was right, she died less than a week later) and Mom was so weak the baptism would have been more taxing on her than a blessing.

So when MIL suggested a private baptism, I was immediately back in those dark days of waiting and watching, both my belly and my mom. It went from a slightly uncomfortable conversation to me being engulfed by the grief again.

Reading over this post, I feel the need to defend MIL a little. She is a wonderful, sweet women who adores my children. She paid for the guys' summer actives and loves to spend time with them. For goodness sake, she took me the hour drive to my parents' small town twice when I was too close to giving birth to drive alone so I could help plan the funeral. And tries to help in anyway she can. You should see the beautiful blanket she made for Hope.

But I'm struggling to be appropriately appreciative lately. The MIL/DIL relationship is always challenging. But I think part of it for me is I can't be mad at my mother for dying, but I can be made at this sweet woman who is in front of me.

Back to reality

For the last couple months, I felt like I was existing in some sort of alternate reality. My hubby and the guys were in the "real world" interacting with real people and I was home, on my couch. People dropped by and I left the house for doctor appointments and such, but I felt outside of it all. I was, as a friend wrote in a card, sitting on my egg and talking to people on the phone (as evidenced by my huge phone bill.) This was especially true in regards to my classroom, I felt completely detached from my students although the sub was updating me. Now I feel like I am re-entering society. It's going okay, although bumpy at times.

The guys adore their little sister. The other day, Hope was on blanket on the floor and they were laying on their tummy's by her. Every time she would look from one brother to the other, they would say, "See she's looking at me, she loves me more." Joey is quick to want to hold her. Jon is willing to, but is more apt to interact with her while she is in a seat or my arms. It is amazing how much they have matured in the last couple months, especially Jon. He will be nine next month and is starting to feel like a mini adult. When I ask him to help, he often does so immediately and cheerfully. Notice I said "often" not "always," he is still an eight year old boy. He'll often make little noises with his mouth or body parts that can drive me insane. But apparently that is very common in prepubescent boys. Crazy that I have a child who could be considered prepubescent.

Joey often has problems with changes in his routine. Even going on vacation can be traumatic for us both. I was really nervous about his reaction to no longer being the youngest and finishing kindergarten in the same month. Adding his first funeral to the mix seemed like disaster waiting to happen. But he's done pretty well. Adores Hope, I know I already said that, but he really just loves her. He has had a couple tantrums including a notable one during a haircut from Uncle Duff, that was fun. But all in all he is doing well, as long as I cuddle him up regularly, which I am usually thrilled to do.

I'm trying hard to strike the right balance of busy and downtime for the summer. Last week, the guys attended Vacation Bible School at our church. I usually help at VBS, but Steve (our minister) absolved me of all duties at church for awhile. The sad thing is, I had to remind myself of that multiple times over the week to shut the Guilt Monster up. GM has a lot to say in my head, but I'm working hard at silencing it! VBS was studing the Psalms, they made multiple instruments, drums, harps and such, and sang some of the Psalms. It helped my soul to hear Joey singing, off tune of course, "Be still and know that I am God, Sala, Sala, Shalom." I cried during the service when we sang Psalm 23, the chapter had been read at the family service for my mom. But I laughed when watching kiddos sing.

Jon is playing baseball every Tuesday and Thursday and Joey is playing T-ball every Monday and Wednesday night. They are both in the community theater production of Oklahoma, practice is Sunday and Wednesday evening. So that keeps our evenings full. MIL is taking them to play practice which is a blessing. During the day, we have some weeks with activities, VBS, Art camp and such, and some quiet weeks. This week was suppose to be a quiet week.

Hope continues to be a good baby, for the most part. I am really trying to savor this time with her and not wish it away for a time when she sleeps through the night. All plans are for her to be my last child and I want to be as fully present as I can be for her babyhood. I know how quickly it will be gone.

But honestly, a part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. For so long, our lives have been a bad thing followed by a good thing, rinse and repeat. Mom died, bad thing, Hope was born, good thing. To a degree, I've been waiting for the next bad thing, because it has to happen. Another part of me, says no, the Big Bad Thing came with Mom's death and now it's time for things to settle. For normal tragedies like a skinned knee or a missed bill or such to replace the real tragedies we've been encountering. We need to eventually go back to a normal life, things can't keep up this soap opera drama month after month. Can it?

Dancing on the Edge

I got an e-mail from my college friend Monica last night. We were very close in college, but unfortunately don't keep close contact anymore. Monica is not addicted to Facebook like I am. We send Christmas letters and the occasional e-mail with big news. I'd sent one when I found out I was pregnant and a couple about Mom. It it feels strange, giving big bad news via mass e-mails or Facebook, but it really is easier. You can give the facts, making sure everyone gets the same details and it is much less emotionally wearing than calling or talking to everyone in person. Monica's responses to my e-mails were short, but heartfelt. She sent me a box of chocolates the week of Mom's funeral and Hope's birth. Monica lost her mom to cancer a couple years after we were out of college, maybe 10 years ago. She was married, but had no children. She now has a three year old boy and is due to have a little girl in August.

Monica sent a big e-mail yesterday. Her dad has prostate cancer. It does not appear to be curable, but she doesn't know how long. I wish I could go and sit with her. I wish I could clean her house and make her meals. I wish this yoke could be lifted from her shoulders, although I don't want more add more to my yoke! I did send her a supportive e-mail, telling her I would pray for her and her family and to take care of herself.

When I was in the midst of everything, I had several long talk with my minister, Steve. I adore him. He told me more than once that we are all living on the precipice between life and death, we just don't usually realize it. But it was out in the open with me, carrying Hope and losing my mother.

I saw an author on Oprah once, I think it was Isabel Allende. She talked about how closely related birth and death are to each other. The author had been in a room when a child was born and when her daughter died, and she said there was the same sacred stillness. That was a small part of why I so badly wanted to be with my mother when she left us. I clearly remember that sudden focus soon after my children were born, even in a busy ob room. I wanted to be there with my mom.

Hope is awake for more of the day now. I commented to Jim, it is the opposite of Mom. The last couple weeks, Mom spent more and more of the day asleep. I treasure that one of the last times she opened her eyes the day before she left us she gazed on my boys and they told her they loved her. I know Cali's husband was very frustrated that he was sleeping so much in his last days. He thought it was the morphine making him sleep so much, but the hospice nurse told him sleeping was part of the process.

I haven't told anyone about Monica's father. I handed the laptop to Jim so he could read her e-mail. I simply could not say the words aloud. I talk to a couple of my sisters daily and normally I would mention something like this to them. They've met Monica, but didn't really know her. I would tell myself I was telling them so they could pray for the family, which they would. But really it would be verbal rubber necking, sharing with them just so we could say wow! But I haven't told them, it is just too close.

My cup overflowith

There are so many thing to post about. The absolute joy I can experience looking at my daughter, even saying the words, "my daughter." I have a daughter. The deep down ache when I remember I'm a motherless daughter. The struggle of learning to nurse again after six years, compounded by my daughter's tongue being tied. (The title of the post was originally a reference to the unbelievably hugeness of my boobies. They were flat out scary big for a couple days there! But then I realized it kinda sums things up.) The irrational anger I felt toward an older couple at the doctor's office, why did they get to grow old together and my parents didn't? Trying to define a new relationship with my dad as an adult without my mom as mediator.

I miss my mom, I wish she could see Hope. I do wonder about heaven. I believe in heaven even though I have no concept of what it looks like or feels like. I do have an idea, I guess. Sometimes, when I'm cuddling with one of my children, or I hear an amazing piece of music or I see a beautiful landscape I feel something inside my chest grow or change. It almost feels like my heart is breaking in a good way. I think it may be my soul changing. I think heaven must feel something like that.

I wonder, though, when does a soul enter a body? The movement I felt inside of me, was that Hope or was that just random body reactions? Hope was born six days after my Mom left this world. Did they meet in heaven? Did my Mom hold my daughter before I did? Or is that just wishful thinking? A year ago, I probably would have thought the soul is within the child before birth. I don't know now. A year ago, I was not even sure if we remain our souls when we enter heaven or if we become part of the collective soul of God. What am I talking about? I'm still not sure. I don't think I believe in reincarnation. Life is hard enough the first time through, I don't think we do it over and over.

I love my daughter's name, but I wonder if it is to big for a little girl. Now I am seeing the word "hope" everywhere. I just read "Joy School" by Elizabeth Berg, one of my favorite authors. The plot was okay, but there were some amazing lines, toward the end, "After despair comes hope." How appropriate is that? And I went back to church Sunday, I only went to church once in April and didn't go at all in May. Bed rest and then I just couldn't go on Mother's Day or the Sunday after we lost Mom. The title of the sermon, "Hope never disappoints." Well then.

Hope has arrived

Wednesday all seven siblings were at Dad's house to go through some of Mom's things. Mom had always been a keeper, and after our house burned down 18 years ago, she really held on to things. Their house was always fuller than Dad wanted it to be. He especially wanted us each to pick one item of Mom's as a remembrance. Some things had already been decided, like her engagement and mother's rings. I struggled with what to choose. JJ wanted the piano. Dad hadn't intended us to choose furniture, but it was such an appropriate choice. Cali and I both have our late father-in-laws' pianos and Lu also has a piano. JJ is a much better piano player than I am and it always seemed wrong that I had a piano and she didn't.

Duff's first item was an old trunk he and Mom had redone together. We opened it up and there were bags labeled for each of us filled with our baby clothes. My daughter will be baptized in one of the dress from my bag.

I finally decided to go with her pearl necklace and earrings. I don't have strong memories of her wearing them, but they are something I will wear and know they were my mother's. Then we took turns choosing pieces of Mom's jewelery. One item I choose was one of her magnetic necklaces that binds to itself. I like the look okay, but I'll never forget her playing with the necklace with my guys.

We went through Mom's clothing, much of it will be donated, but most of us choose an item or two that we could either wear or it reminded us strongly of Mom. Then we went through some other items. Dad will be staying in the house for at least the next year and didn't want it emptied, but there were things he wanted us to go through. The day went pretty well, there were some tears, of course. I didn't cry though which kinda surprised me. We did not argue at all, there may have been some slights, there were a few items more than one of us wanted. But we did not argue. We discussed and relented and I think for the most part we are all satisfied. I am; I made an effort to only take what I would either use or really reminded me of Mom.

I started having some contractions late in the afternoon, harder than I'd had most the day. AJ and Cali lightly poked me in the tummy to try and encourage more contractions. They both had to go home on Thursday and they wanted Little Miss to be born sooner rather than later. Their prodding worked, I had more contractions. The plan had been for Dad to give me a ride home since I could drive the hour myself. As we had gone through stuff, I'd been putting mine in Dad's car. Suddenly, Dad realized that I was walking slower and stopping to take deep breaths. He decided to bring me home immediately! It was like a sitcom with everyone frantically trying to get me out the door. I said I didn't think anything would happen that night. Dad said he had heard my mother say that more than once and it was time to go! He hadn't delivered any of his children and he did not intend to deliver a grandchild. The ride home was quiet. I tried hard not to annoy my dad with idle chit chat. I had a couple contractions in the car, but they weren't too bad.

When I got home I decided it was time to have this baby. She would be born sometime in the next 10 days, why not now? So instead of laying down I started cleaning, bending down to load the dishwasher, going up and down the stairs several times. I started having more hard contractions, I kept going. Finally we decided to head to the hospital just before 8 pm. We live less than four blocks away so we walked. I figured that would help things along. The guys walked along, my MIL picked them up from the hospital.

The nurse who checked me first said I was dilated to 5, on Monday my doctor said I was 4-5. I was so worried they would send me home. The nurse said my doctor would make that decision when she got there. I did not want to go home! My doctor got there and checked. She said I was 5-6, 70% effaced and had a bulging bag. I could stay, we would be having a baby! I actually yelled "Yippee" out loud. It was the happiest I'd been in a couple weeks.

My doctor asked if I'd rather her break my water first or have the epidural. I'd been having second thoughts about the epidural, until I had another hard contraction then I decided I should have a contractions. I'd had an epidural with my first, but hadn't thought it had help much until I had my second with nothing. So I had the epidural. Holy crap, it was awesome! I barely noticed when they broke my water. They had to tell me when I was having contractions.

I spent the next hour and a half waiting to dilate. My doctor sat in the rocking chair and we chit chatted. Jim walked home to get the car and my overnight bag. I hadn't wanted to take it in case they sent me home, superstitious I guess. My doctor went to check on a few things. While I was alone, I got a little weepy, which I guess is going to happen.

My doctor checked me again and I was still 6, I stayed a six for an hour and a half. My mom had had really fast deliveries, I knew she would be wondering what was taking me so long. I called AJ to let her know what was happening. Then I asked her to come be with me. I'd never had anyone in the delivery room besides Jim before. But I wanted one of my sister with me, or even two. Jim and I had joked about it before, but I knew he would be okay with it. AJ and JJ decided to come down. Five minutes later I was dilated to 7. Still wasn't feeling a thing, in fact my legs were completely numb by this point. With Jim and my doctor back I was joking and giggling. It could not have been more different from my other deliveries.

25 minutes into my sisters' hour drive, my doctor checked again and it was time to push. I really had no idea, one heck of an epidural! 15 minutes and 3 hard pushes later Hope Athena entered the world. She is so lovely, with the longest fingers I have ever seen. She is 7 pounds and 11 ounces, and 20 inches long. My sisters got her about 15 minutes after she was born. Cali and my dad came on their way to the airport. Cali kept thanking me for having Hope before she left. Peg came in the afternoon as did my mom's only sister. I wish Mom was here, but to quote Anne Lemott, "It isn't nearly enough, but somehow it is."

One day at a time

We buried my mother today. It was a beautiful service, people always say that, but it really was. AJ, the baby of the family gave the eulogy. She did such an amazing job. My sil sang "One Day at a Time", it was lovely. Peg put together a photo montage, it started with "Memories are made of This", sung by Dean Martin showing pictures of my mom and dad. There weren't many dry eyes in the church.

This has been an awful couple months, but one of the few really bright spots of the last couple months (other than impending arrival of Little Miss) has been watching my parents' marriage. I never doubted that my parents loved each other. They had some bad times, I remember some and heard about others, but my parents had a good marriage, I knew that. But watching them over the last couple months has been a priviledge. That last conversation I had with my mother, she started with her concerns about my dad, how would he do without her. Dad had gone home to mow the lawn, his favorite Zen activity. When he returned to the hospital, Dad moved his chair as close as he could to Mom's bed. He put his hand on hers. He has been so gentle and concerned about her. He was at the hospital everyday.

I'm doing okay, really I am, right now. It was a rough day, I've cried on and off, but not as much as I thought I would. And when I did cry, it was at really odd times, I think I cried the hardest this morning when I was ironing Jim's shirt. I know I'm not done greaving or anything, I know it will hit me hard at different times. But tonight I feel okay. I'm so glad I didn't go into labor before the funeral.

May 13th

My mom is gone. Yesterday evening, her breathing became very labored. Dad, Lu, and Dad's brother were with her. The nurse came in and told them it could be that night. Lu called all of us. I started getting things together, called my MIL to stay with the guys. I don't think it was 20 minutes later when Lu called and told me she was gone.

Mom opened her eyes and looked at Dad. Dad told her it was okay, she could go. Never one to wait around when she wanted something done, she took her last breath.

I'm okay, when acknowledged that "okay" is a relative term. I've cried some. Yesterday afternoon, Lu called and told me the nurses didn't think it would be long. I cried and screamed just a little when I hung up with her. They didn't think it would be yesterday, but over the weekend. Saturday is Peg's little boy's 1st birthday and Sunday is Peg's. Dad prayed that it wouldn't happen on their birthdays. I just really wanted to be there, but like I said, Mom was rarely described as a patient person.

It has been cold since last Friday. People have been complaining, but like I said, it felt right to me. Watching the news earlier this week, the weatherman said it would warm on Friday. I told Jim I thought we would lose Mom before it got warm. Jim didn't agree, he said the weather wouldn't control my mom. I said Mom would control the weather, kidding. Today will be the first day in a week that it will be above 60 degrees. It will be near 70.

I see my doctor this morning and then I plan on going to my parent's small town to plan the funeral. I know one song that will be played,

"One Day at a time, sweet Jesus.
That's all I'm asking from you
Just give me the strength
To do everyday, what I have to do.
Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus
And tomorrow may never be mine"

A part of life

I'm sorry. I started this blog wanting to have a balance of my struggles and joys, heavy on the joys and humor. And obviously, by looking at the name, you can see I planned on discussing my spiritual thoughts and emotions. Well, I have been dealing with struggles lately and my blog posts have been very raw and today's will be no exception.

I'm officially off bed rest, but still pregnant and laying around mostly. I'm up more than I had been, but my energy level is really low, makes me a little nervous because how am I going to have the energy to get through delivery? I also have a cold; sinus headache, cough and the ear congestion. It sucks so badly. I'm taking Sudafed and Tylenol during the day and Benadryl at night. I usually try not to take meds when I'm pregnant, but I have to breathe and think. I have more contractions in the evenings. Both Monday and Tuesday night, Jim timed contractions. There were a couple really hard ones that I thought meant something, but they stopped. I think, okay, I'm going to get up and walk around make these contractions keep going. And then I chicken out, because more contractions hurt and they mean that I will soon be pushing a baby out of my vagina. I know, I know, she has to come out somehow and I don't want a C-section. But I'm freaking out about it just a little. I've done it twice before, I know I can do it. But I'm freaking out just a little.

My mom was moved from the hospital to a hospice center on Monday. It is a lovely place, Mom's room is a small suite, her room looks like a nice hospital room and there is a sitting room attached with a fold out couch. We took the guys out of school yesterday to see her. We'd thought about going after school, but it seemed like Mom has been more alert in the morning most days and mornings are much better for me. Driving up there I knew it was the last my boys were going to see my mom before the funeral. Even if she goes another week and even if Little Miss is born it time, I'm not going to take the guys again. I cried a couple times on the hour drive up. And walking in the center and knowing this is the last place my mom will see, it's almost too much.

My mom had had a rough night before thrashing and asking for Dad. Dad was in the next room. The nurse woke him and he sat beside Mom. They gave her some more Morphine. She said something about being all alone. Dad stayed in the chair next to her the rest of the night even though she didn't wake again during the night. There are French doors between the two rooms. We could sit on the couch and watch her breathe. She was snoring, she's always snored. She wasn't wearing her little hat, just grey fuzz covered her head. Dad took the guys to the play room. He was adamant he didn't want them to sit and watch her breathe. He wanted Mom to see them, but he didn't want to wake her and didn't want her struggling to breathe to be their only memory of her. Jim went to the play room with them. Dad came back. My sister, JJ was there as well as Auntie Faye and my brother Duff's wife came soon after. She is due in July so we sat there with our big bellies. Dad was very concerned about me, he was mad at Jim for not dropping me off at the door. He said just because the doctor said I could be up and around didn't mean I should walk more then necessary. Dad kept telling me to sit down. Mom's youngest brother and his wife came later in the morning.

We all sat around and talked, sometimes about Mom sometimes about other things, it felt very surreal. Mom started waking up and I went in to talk to her. I could barely hear her. She wanted the door close, Dad said no. The nurses, who were wonderful, came in to move her around to prevent bed sores. She went back to sleep. The nurse said she would give her Morphine to keep her comfortable. Before they could, I brought the guys in. She opened her eyes, and smiled just a little at them. They told her they loved her and said good bye. Dad said it was time for them to go. The nurse gave her more Morphine. I don't think she opened her eyes again yesterday.

Jim took the guys to get new dress pants and to Mc Donalds. Duff's wife went to her sister's house. JJ, Dad, and Faye went for lunch. I stayed with Mom and my uncle and aunt and watched Mom breathe. Jim has been just amazing through all this. I can't imagine doing this without him. After they finished shopping and eating, he picked me up (at the door) and we went a little out of our way home to bring Mom's wig to the beautician who has done Mom's hair for years to trim it just a little. Mom told me on Saturday the bangs were too long and I told her I would take it to Barb and have her fix it.

Lu drove the three hours to the biggish city to the north after work yesterday to spend the night with Mom. I talked to her this morning, it was a rough night. Mom is rasping now. The nurses don't think it will be much longer now. Not today, but probably this weekend. I told Lu I was going to call my doctor and ask if I could go back on the medicine to stop the contractions and try to keep Little Miss in until we get through this. Dad called soon after I talked to Lu. He asked me not to take the medicine, to let God decide when she is born. When is sister died two years, AJ had her son two days later and it was a good thing. It made him feel better that as one life was leaving another was coming. Please let God decide, it's part of life. Of course, I will respect my father's wishes.

Snippets of the weekend

It's been really chilly for May. Most people have been complaining, but it's fine with me. It was such a long winter with all the bad crap happening. My mom is dying, the weather should be crappy, a break from spring is okay with me.

Because I was still on bedrest, I needed to use a wheelchair to visit my mom this weekend. Jim wheeled me up to the 3rd floor to the transplant wing. The third floor also had the maternity ward. Everyone was grinning at me assuming it was one of the happiest days of my life and it wasn't. Long way from the happiest day. One women with a German accent told me I looked, "Happy like a million dollars."

I decided I was close enough to being off bed rest that Sunday I would be up and about more. I had even thought about going to church. But I decided against it. I couldn't imagine listening to the minister, who I adore, talking about the importance of a mother's love while my mother is dying.

I really decided to do my best to ignore Mother's Day. The guys both made me wonderful gifts at school. I'd told Jim last week I wanted a simple necklace as a Mother's Day gift. He was going to buy it at Kohl's Friday afternoon. But he came home early because I'd gotten the call about Mom. Saturday, Jim mentioned something about the gift and I asked him not to buy me anything. I just didn't even what to think about it. He did buy me my favorite candy bar.

I turned on the TV when I first got up to watch Sunday Morning on CBS. The minister who came on first said, "We are to live hope abundantly."

Joey made me a "Mom Map." He drew our house, Gamma's house, and church, because Mom likes to go to church.

Jim was amazing. He made my coffee as always, helped me clean up here and there. He made lunch, bought his mom a lovely plant, and brought the guys to his mom's house for a couple hours. My MIL is a wonderful woman who gave me an Amazon gift card for Mother's Day. I couldn't talk to her yesterday, just couldn't do it. I talked to several of my sisters, but I didn't even call Mom. I told her Happy Mother's Day on Saturday and it's difficult for her to talk on the phone.

I thanked Jim last night, for making what I hope is my worst Mother's Day ever better than it could have been. I am blessed to have him.

Sitting and waiting

I'm sitting in my mother's hospital room. My dad and husband went downstairs to eat. My kids and most of my sister's are 3 hours away at my nephew's graduation celebration. I'm sitting by the window, the sun is on the side of my face. Mom is sleeping. I am losing my mom. She is leaving us. Tomorrow is Mother's Day.

My cousin, Sara, sat with me for awhile. She lost her dad in February. She said a couple times that it wasn't fair, everything going on. I thought, hell, I gave up fair a long time ago. This isn't fair, it just is.

Mom has slept most the day. She wakes up a little when new company comes and then drifts back to sleep. I was a little frustrated earlier, feeling like she would wake up for other company and sleep for me. Why couldn't she wake up and talk to me? But when all the company was gone for a little while, she woke up and grabbed my hand. "We need to talk," she said. She told me she was worried about my dad and how would he handle life without her. I assured her we would take care of Dad. She said the house must be a mess, she couldn't imagine the last time it was dusted. I told her I'd take my Flylady feather duster over there and dust it. She smiled at that. Then she told me what she wants to wear. It took me a second to realize she meant for her funeral. I listened carefully and told her we'd take care of it. She wants to wear long sleeves because her arms are bruised and she doesn't want anyone to see them. Then she told me which jewelery she wants to wear. Her wedding ring is too big right now, but she doesn't want it to be cut. I told her we would put tape on the back of it so it would look good. Of course, we'll take care of it, I told her. We were both crying, I sat on the edge of her bed and hugged her over our two big bellies. Mine holding a new life, hers full of cancer.

When I talked to JJ yesterday, she said her anger towards God was directed about Christmas. Why couldn't we have had one more Christmas? It's Mom's favorite holiday, it's Mom's birthday for Christ sakes! There was a huge blizzard this past Christmas. We were all suppose to get together in Minneapolis. I was stranded in North Carolina, Cali couldn't leave California. Lu was stuck in her town. JJ, Peg, and Duff were together in the Biggish City to the South. AJ was the only one in Minneapolis where she lives, she was with her in laws. Mom and Dad spent Christmas home with just each other. I called Mom from the beach house. I was happy to be stranded in a beach house rather than an airport. Mom seemed okay, but she was a little pissy. I told her she and Dad had had 40 some odd Christmases surrounded by family like she enjoys, now they were having Dad's type of quiet Christmas. They ate something they both enjoyed and then played cards, gin rummy I believe. Besides, I told Mom we would all be together for New Years and there would be tons more Christmases. Of course, we didn't get together for New Year's. Cali's husband got sick and Mom and Dad drove out there. Mom wasn't feeling good. She was diagnosed out there, the day before Cali's husband's funeral. That is one crazy ass sentence.

I think I'm done screaming now

On Thursday, Jim and I went to see my mom. She was much weaker than I'd expected. She was still Mom, but weak. Our visit was nice. Dad wasn't there, Mom's sister Faye was. I don't remember what we talked about. Her voice was very quiet and she had trouble finding words sometimes. She was concerned about how I was doing and how far dilated I was.

When we were leaving, we bumped into Dad in the hallway. Chit chatted a little. He was worried about Mom. She seemed to be getting weaker rather than stronger. He said he'd pestered the doctor until they did another CAT scan. We would know the results on Friday he thought.

Yesterday, I tried to call my dad to see if they'd gotten the results. He didn't answer. So I tried to call Joni. I wanted to see if she'd heard about the scan, but I also wanted to see if she'd bought anything for Mother's Day or if she wanted to go together with Lu and me. She answered, I said, hi it's Gina and she started crying. I asked her what was the matter, she asked if I'd talked to Dad yet. I tried to get her to tell me what was going on, she said I needed to talk to Dad and then call her back. I asked if she had someone with her, she said someone was coming, then we hung up. And I waited for Dad's call, it was awful. I called Jim, I paced, I waited.

Dad called. He asked where I was and if I had someone I could talk to after we got off the phone. The CAT scan had shown that the Lymphoma was back. They exhausted all their options including some experimental ones. Did I understand what that meant? Yes. I asked about hospice, he would be meeting someone about it. He didn't think she would be able to go home, but she would be going to a hospice facility. I asked how long, he said a couple weeks. I stayed mostly calm while on the phone. I asked if I should come up and he said no. Dad told me to take care of myself and the baby and to call my minister and Jim. I told Dad my doctor said the baby could be born next week and be okay. He said yeah, that's how it seemed to work in his life. A new life comes as another life slips away. I asked if I could do anything, and he said he couldn't think of anything.

I hung up and started crying. Then I started screaming, almost keening like the women did back in history. A very small rational part of my brain would remind me every once in awhile to breathe, that the baby needed oxygen. I did not want to go into labor.

I paced. I picked up. I called Jim, he said he would come home early. I called my minister. He said, Wow, and that he would visit soon.

I cry some, then I'm okay. I've told a few people. Lu updated the Caringbridge site last night after Dad had called everyone. I've sent a couple e-mails to friends far away. Jim took me to my doctor appointment. I'm fine, dilated to four, but my doctor said I can go back and see my mom today. My doctor was very nice. After Monday, I think I'm going to do whatever I can to go into labor quickly. I think, but then again, if she stays put, then I'm able to go up to see my mom. But then I'm always waiting and wondering if I'm going to go into labor. I don't know.

I told the guys with Jim by my side. That was hard. I explained that Grandma's cancer was worse and the medicine wasn't helping anymore and that she would be going to heaven. Jon cried. Joey asked why he was crying. Joey asked if everyone who has cancer dies, and I said no. Although I guess everyone dies eventually. Jim says I handled telling the guys well, I don't know.

People, the few I've seen, want to hug me. I don't want to be hugged. I don't know why. I'm usually a hug person, but I don't want to hug. My MIL brought supper over last night. At one point she asked something about Mother's Day. I wanted to scream. I don't give a shit about Mother's Day right now.

Almost everyone loses their mom at some point. Unless the mother loses a child, which is worse, I know that. I've had my mother twice as long as she had hers. She's been there for me for so many things. I'm not ready. And my mom having weeks to live when I will give birth in the next couple weeks, what the hell?

My mom holding Joey six years ago.

Story at 10

I had an interesting morning! Yesterday the local news channel ran a story about banking your baby's cord blood. Actually the national ABC news was to do a story about it as well, but it was pre-empted by the arrest of the New York City bomber, rightfully so. I was very interested to see the story. When Jon was born in North Carolina, we donated his cord blood for research. Honestly, I don't think I even asked about it when Joey was born. However, when we found out in March that Mom would need a bone marrow transplant, I started doing some research. I thought I remembered from My Sister's Keeper, that cord blood could be used to treat leukemia. Yes, I realize it is a work of fiction, but it was worth checking out!

When Googling "cord blood", or even "donating cord blood", the vast majority of sites that pop up are for banking your child's cord blood, for the modest fee of around $2,000 initially and $125 a year storage fee. I finally found www.marrow.org which is operated by the National Marrow Donor Program. A beautiful site, their catch phrase is "Donate Umbilical Cord Blood. Give Birth to Hope." Helllooo! It seemed like everything was fitting together. It had taken three years to get pregnant, but maybe it was part of a grand plan. Maybe my daughter, who I wanted to name Hope, would be able to save her grandmother. I could not find any information on donating to a grandparent on the site so I found the phone number and called. I spoke with a lovely and patient woman. I explained that my mother had leukemia and lymphoma and that I wanted to my daughter’s cord blood to be used for her. She explained it was not an option. Family cord blood donations only work for siblings or parents of the baby. It is the same reason children are not generally able to donate bone marrow to their parents. Each of us receives half of our DNA from both parents, so we don’t match either parent. I started quietly crying at that point.

I took a deep breath and asked how I could donate the cord blood. If it couldn’t help my mom, I wanted it to help someone. My kind, patient operator looked it up for me. There are no cord blood banks in my state or the surrounding 3 states. She told me she was sorry, but I could not donate. I thanked her, hung up and cried so hard I got the hiccups.

So I was very interested to see last night’s stories. But first the national story was pre-empted. And the local story was all about banking your newborn’s cord blood. I was pissed. Cord blood banking is expensive and you may never need the cord blood. Donated cord blood could be used, but it thrown away everyday here in the Midwest. I watched the local story, got pissed and because I’m on bed rest and have access to a lap top, I sent an e-mail. I got a call and this morning I was interviewed for tonight’s local news. How about that?

Middle of the night

I can't sleep. Big surprise, I'm almost 35 weeks pregnant, show me a pregnant woman who sleeps soundly, and I'll be looking for her sleeping pills. Which are, by the way, sometimes allowed. In the hospital, they gave me Ambien, I haven't slept that well in months! It was great, so good I didn't ask for a prescription. I have a deep seated fear of addiction and anything that lets me sleep that well should not be in my medicine cabinet. Pills are actually part of the problem tonight. I had some pretty good contractions, regular for awhile today. So I took the "stop 'em" pill, which works, but also makes me very jittery. My doctor recommends I take them with Benadryl, I did this afternoon and slept for a couple hours. I woke up not jittery, but now I can't sleep.

I've been tossing and turning, not easy at 35 weeks, but manageable. As always, I'm over thinking things. Beyond the whole having a baby (OMG!), money woes, and my mom having cancer, I've got more drama. Well, little drama compared to what's been going on. By the way, last Saturday, my dad was held up at gunpoint. What does it say about our lives that being held up is a side story? He is fine, he was at a friend's poker game, my dad is a really good poker player, and these guys showed up and robbed them all. Dad is playing down the whole thing, treating it like anecdote already. He lost some money, but he is fine. And really what's money compared to finding out the the chemo worked and his wife is going to make it? Well, probably make it, those doctors don't exactly hand out promises.

Back to my drama, I got an e-mail from a friend at school. She is taking a position at the high school and she thinks I would be a "perfect fit" for her position at the middle school, teaching 8th grade language arts. I received another e-mail from the school librarian encouraging me to take the position. I think I would just have to tell my principal I'm interested and the job would be mine, unless another teacher who has been with the district longer wants it.

I am torn. I love teaching the one section of 8th grade language arts I currently teach, but do I want to teach it all day long? I would go from 5 different classes with no more than 8 students to teaching the same, or very similar classes, 5 times every day with 20 some odd kids in each class. And they are 8th graders, so I do mean odd! Plus it is a Lit/Comp class. I would have to teach research papers and grammar.

BUT, and this is a huge one, I wouldn't have to teach math. No math. It's been okay, but the fact that I teach 7th grade math is hugely ironic. I barely passed 7th grade math. Now my loving and devoted sister, AJ, says that the fact I had "problems" with math myself makes me uniquely qualified to understand my students who struggle. I think she has a point, but I wouldn't have to teach math at all. No more "Please excuse my dear aunt Susan," or multiplying mixed numbers, or worrying that I am screwing my math students more up than they were to begin with. No more blank looks during fifth period. Well, I guess I can't guarantee no more blank looks, but I am much better at engaging students in reading than in math. I would still teach To Kill a Mockingbird. But it would be starting over again, but not completely since I've taught one section of 8th grade language arts for two years. And the job would have more security than I've had for awhile. There is only one 8th grade language arts teacher, they already eliminated the separate reading teacher so they can't get rid of the language arts position, whereas I feel like my current position is always the next on the chopping block.

So there's the job thing, and then there's the fact I'm going to be having a baby sometime in the next month, holy crap! All things considered, I'd love to simply quit my job and stay home with Little Miss next year. Or quit the math section and continue teaching my three reading groups. But the kiddos would like to continue eating regularly so I guess I'll need to keep working.

The Gifts of Bedrest

I could easily write another way too long post detailing how much bedrest sucks, how frustrating it is to be stuck down while the house falls apart around me, how I feel my muscles turn to mush. let alone not being able to go see my mom. But enough with the Debbie Downer, let's try the sunny side of the street, shall we?

When I'd been couch bound for a couple days, Joey told me, "There's one good thing about you being on bedrest. I always know where to find you." Everybody now, awwww. Of course, then comes the never ending guilt, does he usually not know where to find me? But still that was pretty cute.

I've gotten to spend more time with my kiddos, really talking and listening to them. I spend a lot of time around my guys, but usually I'm doing something else at the same time. I'm doing the dishes or cooking or picking up. But now I'm stuck down, they come down and I really talk to them. Or I listen to them tell me about their day. It is really wonderful to listen to them play together, they get into the Legos and they are so fun to hear. I would never normally hear that. And I am reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to Joe and Jon is listening. Since Jon was six, I've read him one of the Harry Potter books each summer. Last year, Joey was ready to start them. After I finish book 2 with Joe, Jon and I will start book 4, The Goblet of Fire. Here are my goofballs listening.

I mentioned spring in the last post. I haven't been outside a whole lot since being put on bed rest. But when the stars align, it's nice outside and Jim is willing to get me a chair and be on my beck and call, I go sit in the front yard. The guys ride their scooters and run around and I sit and enjoy the sun. I don't feel guilty about not wedding the flower beds or getting the veggies in the ground because I'm not allowed. I need to just sit there and soak in the sun.

Besides Harry Potter, I've had more time to read. I really enjoyed The Help, I would highly recommend it. I was able to finish The Fiery Cross, well over a thousand pages of Gabaldon. I didn't think there was a chance I would finish it before Little Miss was born. Today I finished The Middle Place, another great book.

But the greatest gift of bed rest has been the support that has surrounded my family. The wonderful ladies of my book group set up a schedule and have brought meals every day since I was hospitalized. They have meals set up until the end of May. Isn't that amazing! My sisters, JJ, and Peg, came down with their kiddos this weekend. It was fun to watch the kiddos play, but they also brought a ton of baby supplies, and JJ cleaned my house. One friend is picking up Joey for school everyday and another friend has taken Jon out to her house to run several times. Friends stop by with food, books, or magazines or just to talk. I feel so blessed.

My niece and nephew and my belly. Aren't we cute?

Every pregnant woman should have a Superwomen tee shirt. Because, hello, growing a new life, what better super power could there be? Besides, my mom had one when she was expecting my sister. Notice my magazines and remotes all within reaching distance. I was going to dress up a little or maybe put on some makeup for this picture, but I decided to keep it real. This is where I spend much of my day and this is how I look. I did shower though. That doesn't happen everyday.

Spring is finally here

It was a really long winter. A really, really long winter, and it is over. Part of me really believed that when winter was over things would start improving for my family. Well, the grass was green and the tulips were up for a while before things started to improve, but things, they are improving!
I came home from the hospital and my tulips were blooming. Aren't they beautiful? I really think this is the best year ever for my tulips. It's amazing how happy my blooming tulips made me even though my mom was in really bad shape and I was on bed rest to prevent preterm labor. The tulips were another proof life was going on. That "This old world must still be turning round," to quote James Taylor.



So the first Sunday of my bed rest was one of the worst days of my life, and not to be overly dramatic, but that's really saying something! It was such a helpless feeling, not knowing if I would ever see my mom again, and not being able to go to her even though she was little more than an hour away. Then my sicko mind started spinning, what if Mom died? And my crazy starts worrying about not being able to go to a funeral. And I need my mom and what if...



My guys were trying to help me, but nothing they did was quite up to how I thought it needed to be done. I didn't throw many fits about it, I tried to remember that as long as the toys were picked up, it didn't matter where they were put. But it upped the stress. And then there were the lesson plans that needed to be finished. Jim took me to school, it took longer than I thought it would. I was sitting up for awhile, I had contractions, I took the pill to stop them. The pill makes me jittery, that helps when trying to type. It was a very bad day.



But Monday was better. JJ called from Mom's hospital room. Mom recognized her and said her name. I stayed down most the day, except when I went in to the doctor and she said everything looked good. Tuesday was even better, Mom sat up and was talking and making some sense. A neighbor brought a meal for us. And Thursday, Mom called me. I cried the minute I heard her voice. Her voice was low and I didn't understand stand everything she said, but she wanted to know how I was doing. By agreement with my dad, we played down things a little. She doesn't know I was hospitalized and my dad didn't say "bed rest." He just said the doctor told me to lay down most the time and to take things easy. And the icing on the cake was Friday, we got the bone marrow biopsy back. The horrible awful chemo that took my mom away from us for three days, worked. The cancer was dying, we were preparing for the bone marrow transplant.



Spring is here.

When we last left our heroine

The heroine being me. When we last left me, now that's an odd sentence, I was in my sister's car heading home for 3 1/2 weeks of bedrest, bawling my eyes out. My sister, JJ, is not emotionally demonstative in ordinary situations. Of course, finding out your mother was incoherent and may stay that way is not ordinary. But JJ was going to be giving a talk to a roomful of undergrads in less than an hour, she could not break down. When she does breakdown, it takes her a lot longer to put herself back together. She has since apologized for letting me cry alone in her car without even hugging me, but I understood even then. JJ and I are very different, but I know her, don't always understand her, but I know her. She is almost exactly 12 months younger than me, she is part of almost all of my childhood memories.

JJ and I went back to my house. We had lunch then she went to her talk. And the longest weekend of my life started. When JJ was on bedrest, I remember thinking how lovely it would be to be told, "Stay put, don't get up, just lay there." I was very wrong. It is so frustrating to see what needs to be done and not able to just get up and do it! Plus, my house is a split foyer, you walk in the door and have to choose, seven steps to go upstairs or seven steps to go downstairs. Upstairs is the guys room, a bathroom with bathtub, the living room (with no couch) and the kitchen. Downstairs is our bedroom, our bathroom with the only shower, family room with the good TV and couch and the laundry room with the extra fridge. I can go up and down the stairs twice a day, so I have to choose, kitchen or couch. And if I forget something downstairs, I'm without it! My guys did a nice job of helping me out, but they had their own agenda that mostly involved their DSs. I think bed rest would be frustrating anytime, but combined with my mom being sick it was horrible.

I had asked my doctor if I could go see my mom, I promised I would lay back in the car and then just stay in the recliner in her room. My doctor gave me the go ahead. After all, if I did go into true labor, my doctor would send me up to the biggish city to the north where Mom was hospitalized. Sure, Mom was in the other hospital, but I had faith Jim could get me to my hospital pretty quickly!
Sunday morning I made my first trip upstairs. Obviously, I wasn't going to church and Jim is not a big fan of going without me so he slept in. My plan for the day included finishing the lesson plans for the sub for the rest of the year (that's fun), dropping them off at school and make a few copies for the sub, then heading up to see my mom. But the dishes were driving me insane, so would get up, do a couple dishes, then sit down with my feet up for 30 minutes. Not exactly what the doctor ordered, but close!

Then my dad called me. Again, very unusual. Mom was about the same he told me, still not really talking, or rather not making sense. Dad also told me to stay home. He wanted me not to come see Mom, the room was small, there was no place for me to lay down and Mom wouldn't know I was there. He told me to stay home and do what I could to keep my baby safe. He was right, I knew that. But I hung up and cried, really hard. I tried to contain myself, I knew crying that hard was not good for me, but stopping was not possible. I actually went back to the sink washed the rest of the dishes while I bawled. Not what the doctor ordered, but I couldn't sit still.

When I calmed down, I laid down and called my sister Peg to tell her I wouldn't be going to see Mom. Peg was wonderful, she understood that I was upset, but she agreed with Dad. Her reasoning was the last thing Dad needed was one more thing to worry about. I realized, it was hard for Mom when she was in labor with my youngest sister and nearly died, but that was Dad's experience too. He thought he had lost them both and would go home to six motherless children. He never talks about it, he doesn't talk about emotional stuff ever, but it was his life too. He did not need me risking anything. I don't think it would have been in risk, but I had to honor his wishes. So I stayed home.

There is no normal

So for the last while, every time I think, "Okay, so life seems to be settling down a little. We seem to be finding the new normal." The floor drops out again. So I have stopped thinking that, or at least saying it out loud.

I hadn't said it or even thought it last Wednesday. Really, I hadn't. I had maybe contemplated that the fact none of Mom's siblings being a match was the latest bad thing, and maybe we would have a little break from the bad. Okay, that's okay to think right?

So, last Wednesday I was teaching 7th grade math and I coughed. And anyone who has ever been 32 weeks pregnant for the third time knows what happened next. Except it felt different, I thought, hmm was that pee or something else? Then I had a contraction.

"Okay kiddos, lets go into the computer lab and work on the math program." "Are we going to finish correcting this?" "Nope, you guys head in there and I'm going to run to the office, I'll be right with you." I went to the ladies room and still couldn't decide. I knew my water hadn't broken like it had with both of my guys, but I'd read about ladies having sprung a leak.

I went back to my kiddos, finished the class just a tad distracted. When the bell rang, I went straight to the phone and called my sister, of course. Went back and forth as to if I should go in or not. The tests to determine if it was amniotic fluid was inconclusive, ph paper said yes, ferning said no. But the fFN test came back positive (go ahead, google it. I'll be here) and I was dilated to 2. So I had an ultrasound, my cervix length measured 2 centimeters, if you're wondering. I would be spending the night in the hospital.

Hubby had picked up the kids and fed them supper. School was basically taken care of, I had already planned on having a sub on Thursday. I was going to spend the day with my mom. I called my dad and told him I wouldn't be able to come up. He said he wouldn't tell Mom that I was in the hospital, just that I wasn't feeling good. I was fine with that, he said she'd been kinda mixed up and he didn't want to confuse her.

My dad and I don't usually talk much. He is naturally a quiet man and Mom usually runs interference between us. But now we have to talk, it felt so weird to be telling my dad that I thought my water broke and that I was dilating. That is so a Mom conversation. I told him everything would be okay and that it was like when my sister J.J. had preterm labor a couple years ago. It wasn't exactly the same, she hadn't been dilating and had regular contractions. I was having some contractions but not regular.
But my mom had gone into preterm labor with my youngest sister and Mom had nearly died. My sister was on bed rest for 5 weeks, was up for a couple week before they induced her. She had a healthy baby girl. So I figured it was better to compare my situation to my sister's rather than my mom's. So I downplayed things just a little for my dad. Said I would probably be up over the weekend. He sounded so... tired. I guess tired is the best way to say it, he didn't sound like the Dad I knew.

They started me on a steroid to develop Little Miss' lungs in case she did show up. I was on a monitor to watch the contractions and some medicine to stop the contractions. I was tested for Strep B and started on an IV antibiotic and fluid. If things did develop further, I would be sent to the Biggish city to the north. The same city my mom is hospitalized in, unfortunately we would be in different hospitals. But her hospital specializes bone marrow transplants, mine in taking care of babies, so we would both be in the right place for us.

My doctor came in in the morning, I was dilated to 3, damn it! But she said I could stay here for the day and she would check on me later to decide if I needed to be moved up. Long day of channel surfing. But that night I had an Ambian, I slept better than I have in months!

When my doctor came in Friday morning, I was still dilated to 3 and hadn't had many contractions over night. She said I could go home, yippee! But on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy, not so yippee.

My sister, J.J., was going to be in town to give a talk at the college. Hubby had to teach, he has missed so many classes this semester, so JJ was going to give me a ride home. Our oldest sister, Lu, was going to spend the day with Mom and Dad. As I was packing things up and trying to figure out how to plan for a sub for the rest of the school year, Lu called. She asked where I was and if JJ was there yet. When I said no, she said we should call her when JJ got there and she would let us know what Mom's doctor. I asked if Lu was okay, she said yep just call when JJ and I were together.

I hung up the phone and started to cry. If Lu had good news she would have told me, whatever the hell was going on wasn't good. I tried not to totally break down, because that wouldn't help my situation at all. But, seriously? It's my mom, I need my mom. I took a couple deep breaths and called for the nurse. I'd only had a small contraction, but I figured I should take the pill to stop the contractions because I knew more were coming. The pill makes me jittery, but it's worth it.

JJ got there. She'd talked to Lu and basically got the same cryptic call me when you are together. JJ said it was a really long 40 minute drive from the Biggish city to the south where she lives. We loaded up and got in the car, we needed to stop at the pharmacy for my meds and the deli for lunch. But as soon as we got in the car, we called Lu and put her on speaker phone. I will never forget sitting in the drive through window at the pharmacy and listening to my sister drop the latest bomb. Mom was basically incoherent, muttering but making no sence, not recognizing anyone, not able to do anything for herself. The doctors didn't know if she would come back to us. They thought it was a side effect of one of the three very strong chemos she was on, but it could be encephalitis. They couldn't test for encephalitis, her blood count was too low. So they were treating encephalitis and were giving the antidote for the chemo. (even in this crazy conversation, the fact that they have an antidote for the chemo kinda cracked me up.)

But the kicker was, even if she came out of this, we weren't sure if the chemo had had a chance to kill the bone marrow and it was the last option. If she came back to us, there was a good chance it would be to say good bye, and I was on fucking bed rest. If you're wondering, this is what composes a really bad day.

Fortunately

There’s a really fun kids book called Fortunately by Remy Charlip. It tells of one man’s adventures alternating from good events to bad events, fortunately and unfortunately. It’s a great writing assignment for students and can result in some really funny and creative stories. Below is my past six months in the Fortunately format. This is not a work of fiction; this is my life.

Fortunately, I found out I was pregnant in late September. My husband and I were thrilled! We have been trying on and off for 3 years and had nearly given up. We have two healthy boys, 8 and 6, but really wanted one more.

Unfortunately, my 42-year-old sister who lives in California was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer the same day as my first ob visit. Pancreatic cancer is one of the deadliest cancers.

Fortunately, my brother’s wife found out she was expecting a baby too!

Unfortunately, I had nonstop morning sickness for the first 3 1/2 months of my pregnancy. Chicken noodle soup still turns my stomach.

Fortunately my sister’s tumor was operable. Pancreatic cancer isn’t usually, but she was able to have the Whipple procedure. I goggled it and quickly learned goggling medical procedures is not a good idea when one is 3 months pregnant.

Unfortunately, my sister’s recovery from the surgery took longer than expected. She spent over a month in the hospital before going home to recover then starting chemo and radiation.

Fortunately my parents were able to fly out there to be with her and her husband and son.

Unfortunately, her husband got sick while my parents were there.

Fortunately, I was able to spend the week before Christmas at a beach house with my husband’s family. It was so relaxing and fun to see my boys playing on the beach and with their cousins they don’t get to see often.
Unfortunately, there was a huge storm across the Midwest when we were supposed to fly home. We’d planned to spend Christmas day with my side of the family (except, of course, my sister in California who would be with her family out there.)

Fortunately, we were able to reschedule the family gathering for New Year’s weekend.

Unfortunately, my brother in law got much sicker. He was in renal failure. My parents went back to California. He passed away January 4th.

Fortunately, the all six other siblings were able to fly out to be with our sister for the funeral.

Unfortunately, Mom was feeling crappy and started feeling worse.

Fortunately, we were able to convince her to go to a doctor out there to be checked out. She wanted to wait until she got back to the Midwest.

Unfortunately, Mom was diagnosed with leukemia and lymphoma.

Fortunately, she was able to fly home for treatment. The doctors told us she had a fast growing cancer, but it usually was very responsive to chemotherapy.

Fortunately, I found out we would be having a little girl. After trying for so long, I really would have been happy to have either a boy or a girl. But my mom really wanted me to have a girl, so I was thrilled to give her good news.

Unfortunately, the ultrasound also found that Little Miss and I shared a two-vessel cord, instead of the normal three-vessel cord. It can be correlated to birth defects.

Fortunately, the baby is just fine. The specialist said her heart is great but wanted us to have extra ultrasound to be sure she continue growing. At the last ultrasound, she was in the 94th percentile. She seems to be growing just fine!

Unfortunately, two of my dad’s brothers passed away, one in February and one in March. They’d both been sick for a while and had both made the choice not to prolong their lives by signing DNRs. It was hard to lose them, and harder to see my dad without my mom at the funerals. She’s been hospitalized nearly solid since January 11th.

Fortunately, my sister’s cancer has reacted well to the chemo and radiation. She has a couple more months of weekly chemo, but currently her chemo marker numbers are in the normal ranges. I was able to spend a couple days with her in March. She is one hell of a fighter!

Unfortunately, my mother’s leukemia is not reacting to the chemo. The lymphoma is, but the leukemia is not. The doctor’s decided she needed a bone marrow transplant.

Fortunately, she has three healthy siblings to be tested.

Unfortunately, none of them are a match.

Fortunately, there are many potential matches in the national donor pool. We are hopeful there will be a match.

Fortunately, we still have treatment options. Fortunately, we are surrounded by an amazing group of friends and families who have give support, brought food, and prayed for us. Fortunately we have hope.

By the way, my husband and I are still working on a name for our daughter. We are seriously considering Hope.

A day

I have a pot of chili on the stove and brownies in the oven. My sister is waiting with her husband. I am yelling at my children. My sister is preparing to meet her husband's oldest daughter for the first time. I am feeling my child move inside of me. My sister is watching her husband die.

I am having a baby and my sister has pancreatic cancer. For a while I couldn't talk about the one without talking about the other. I had my first ob appointment the same day she met with the surgeon for the first time. I was, what 7 weeks pregnant or so and had planned on not telling people until I was at least in the second trimester.

I am 34 years old and am older than I thought I'd be when I had my last baby. My sister is 43 and too young to have cancer or be a widow.