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.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
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?
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?
Thursday, June 3, 2010
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.
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.
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