RenovationGirl

A Year Ago Today

It is now past midnight.  The date has turned to April 9th.  Upstairs, asleep, are my two children.  Two. It is only in the past month or so that I can say "children," plural, and not feel awkard or uncomfortable.  I have multiple children.  Not one. Two.  It's crazy. Not a day has gone by during this past year where I haven't marveled at this fact.  Not a day has gone by during this past year where I haven't thanked God for these amazing gifts.  It has been an amazing and joyous year.

Dear Baby,

It is 12:34 AM on April 9th, 2014.  It's your first birthday!  A year ago today, we were all wondering when you'd make your big entrance.  I was four days late, bigger than a house, and so very ready to meet you.  I went to bed the night before anticipating meeting you.  Somewhere in the middle of the night, mild contractions started.  Enough to disturb my sleep, but not enough to wake Daddy.  (Really, does anything wake Daddy?)  My contractions were getting stronger and by 5 AM, I couldn't stay in bed anymore.  I took a careful and quick shower and then got back to bed.  I started timing things and realized that this was probably game time.  I had one goal in that morning-get your brother to school without knowing we were headed to the hospital.

You see, after almost nine whole years of being an only child, your brother wasn't so thrilled by the idea of you. He was confused and worried about how life would change for him, for us, once you arrived.  He's a worrier, that brother of yours!  So, we just wanted him to go to school and not worry all day.  Somehow, through the onslaught of intensifying contractions, we got your brother to school and he had no idea!

Once brother was at school, mommy called your yaya  to let her know we'd need her to pick up your brother.  Being the worrier she is (see, your brother comes by it honestly), she left the house immediately, even though she wasn't needed for 6 more hours!  In the meantime, we called the doctor who let the hospital know we'd be on our way.

At this point, mommy's contractions became more sporadic, so daddy and I took our time getting things ready and leaving for the hospital.  Even though we had done this before, we were still scared and worried and nervous.  Our lives were about to change yet again and we didn't know what was in store for us.  When we got to the hospital, instead of mommy getting a wheelchair to go up to the labor and delivery floor, mommy decided to have daddy park in the regular parking lot and walk the whole way.  I can remember the looooooong hospital hallways and having to stop regularly to breathe through a contraction.  I remember a hospital volunteer offering to get us a wheelchair.  But then the contraction would pass and off we'd go again.  

As we headed into the last stretch, the nurses saw me coming and called out my name.  They didn't know me, but they heard I was coming-and I was to get special treatment.  The head daytime nurse was the mother of one of my friend's and she had told everyone to treat me well.  It felt special and comforting and welcoming.  They marveled at the fact that I had walked the entire way and this felt very affirming to me.  This was around 11:00 AM.  They got me into a room and began to get me hooked up to monitors to see what you were up to.  

Not much.  You had decided to take a break.  I was not having regular contractions, although the monitors showed they were pretty intense when they happened.  I was working through them well, so it appeared that they might be sending us home.  The doctor ordered that I walk for awhile and then see if things progressed.  If not, home we would go.  We walked and looked at all the construction (the maternity wing was being remodeled) and once back on the monitors, things were still status quo.  They consulted Dr. L. about me and she asked me if I'd like her to break my water.  I was four days late, I was 40 years old, I said yes!  So, although I'm not sure of the order now, they started the epidural, hooked up just a little bit of pitocin, and broke my water.  At this point, it was now around 1:45.   I asked the nurse about how long they thought everything would take (I was worried about your brother) and they assured me it would probably take about an hour per cm and I was only 3-4 cm (and that was being generous).  So we settled in to wait.

About 40 minutes later, I felt some serious pressure.  I mentioned it to daddy who kind of shrugged it off.  With the next contraction, I felt that serious pressure again.  Again, I mentioned it to daddy.  Again he kind of shrugged it off.  On the next and third contraction, I knew this wasn't normal pressure-this was getting urgent.  I knew I was going to need to push very, very soon.  I asked daddy to get a nurse, and warned him that she would probably poo-poo him, but to tell them I still wanted them to check me.  They came in to check with an air of appeasement and a look of surprise crossed the face of the nurse.  In that short time, I went from 3 cm to 10 cm.  It was go time!

They called Dr. L, who had left to go run errands (she was at the post office when they called her)-after all, we all thought it would be hours!!!!-who gave one instruction-Don't push!  The nurses set the process into motion-transforming by room into a delivery room-as we waited for the dr to get there.  I was worried my friend's mom wouldn't make it, but she arrived shortly before the doctor did and her presence was calming and comforting.  Dr. L swooped in and quickly checked me.  She was surprised, but pleased.  Without even putting on a surgical gown, she began to give me instructions.  First push.  I could tell I was pushing wrong.  It had been awhile since I'd done this and we hadn't taken a refresher class.  Next push came along, I worked hard at pushing correctly and out slipped your hand over your head.  Daddy loved that!!  One more push, and out you came.  Boom.  Three pushes, less than 40 minutes of tough labor, and there you were.  

to be continued...

In the Quiet

It's quiet right now...save for the hum of the baby monitor...and the occasional banging of wood from the workshop below as Remodel Man crafts posts for our front porch...and the soft laughter of Builder Boy and his friend playing Legos two rooms away.  It's nice...

I've been dwelling on the idea of quiet a lot during the past six and a half weeks since my daughter was born.  It started out when I realized that when she and I are home alone, there is often a lot of quiet during her awake times.  When Builder Boy was an infant, I talked to him nonstop.  I was nervous and worried that I was doing everything wrong, so I read parenting books and heeded their advice to just talk as you go about your daily routine.  So talk I did.  Constantly.  (At nine years old now, guess what Builder Boy does?  Yep, talks. Constantly!) This time around, I'm okay to let their be silence in our days.  She actually seems to relish this quiet time.  She kicks her legs and checks out her surroundings.  Often I find her smiling.

This quiet started at the hospital.  I was tired of having been pregnant and tired from delivery.  We were often alone (Did this happen with everyone's second child?  No one really came to visit in the hospital...it was weird and I tried not to be offended by it.)  and during this alone time, we would sit quietly, gazing on one another.  When I took my first shower post-delivery, I remember what a friend said about how lonely she felt in that first shower.  All of a sudden, after nine months of always having "someone" with you, here you are, alone. I felt that loneliness, although I willed myself to not dwell on it.  Hyper-aware of postpartum depression, I didn't want to think about such a sad thought,  yet it would creep in during other showers. 

Once home, pensive quiet would continue.  I would find the slippers I took to the hospital, the booties she wore, or event he spritz bottle for my sore girl parts-and in those moments, I was intensely aware of the silence.  I was watching to see if I was slipping into a depression, once again willing myself not to feel the intense sadness I encountered the first time around.  Thankfully, almost seven weeks later, I have not sunk into that horrible pit of postpartum depression and I thank the Lord daily for this.  

This time around, when I find myself pensive, thinking on the moments that can cause intense sadness, the falling off of the umbilical cord, the packing away already of newborn clothes, the awareness of how fast she is already growing and how much better she fits into her car seat, instead of reprimanding myself how I am wasting valuable time, missing precious moments, this time, I just enjoy.  I enjoy the momentary wistfulness of the passage of time.  I allow myself to experience the bittersweet.  This time around, I know that even with the passing of time, from newborn to toddler to preschooler to grade schooler, new and exciting experiences await her-and I get to watch.

The quiet has taught me so much this time.  So has experience.  So has the fact that she is a content baby.  Or maybe the fact that she is so content stems from my peacefulness.  Who knows?  All I know is this...I am enjoying the quiet.  

 

 

Well Hello!

It's been months since I've written.  Thank you for the emails I received checking in on me. I'm fine.  Truly.  I just have had no desire to visit this space.  I wish I could say I was soul-searching, trying to find my place in the blog world, but really, I just didn't care to write.  Have you ever been there with your blog?  Of the blogs I read, it does seem to be a trend that people aren't writing as much or commenting as much.  Perhaps it's the saturation of blogs or perhaps people are actually out there living their lives instead of writing about them.  Nonetheless, here I am. 

Here's what you missed during my hiatus:

1.  Miscarriage #5-done naturally at home.  This I do NOT recommend.  Go for the D&C people-much less emotionally traumatic!!!

2.I got medicated!!!!!Hooray for me!  Anti-depressant AND  anti-anxiety meds.  I'm much better, although still battling serious anxiety due to #3 and my fear of taking the anti-anxiety meds and getting addicted.

3.  Finished out the worst school year of my career.  Many teachers were fired for no apparent good reason leaving us all feel very unsettled and terrified.  It was a year filled with drama and crisis and change and I'm hoping this coming year will be totally boring because I can't handle another year like that.

4. Cub Scout camp for Builder Boy-a wonderful experience for him!  He learned so much and had such a great time.

5.  Our church festival where I learned lots, made lots of new friends, and cooked more cabbage rolls that I ever thought I could.  It was a lot of fun!!!

6.A heat wave and we don't have air conditioning.  I really like it when I tell people we have a couple of window units and they reply, "OH, that's good!!!"  Really? yes, it's helpful, but it's not good.  It's hot as blazes in all but one room in our house during the day, and that room is a freezing 84 degrees.  It's even been too hot to go to the pool during the afternoon hours. Ugh.!

7. Teaching summer school...always interesting and challenging, especially because it's online.  I do enjoy it, though, as it keeps me fresh and teaching is never far from my mind.

8. Restoring out front porch. Oh.My.Gosh.  What a project!  Remodel Man is doing it all himself and it is quite a project.  and in this heat...

9.  Getting ready for vacation in the near future.  Beach time is always good for the soul. 

10.  Prepping lessons for the entire school year-I am determined that THIS will be the year I am organized and ahead of schedule planning-wise.  (Please pray for me on this one!)

11.  Cooking!!  Lots and lots of new recipes and new foods.  I had lost my cooking mojo for awhile, but because of a CSA program and Pinterest, I have my groove back.  Remodel Man is quite glad about this!

So that's me...how have you been?

A Chipmunk, Some Robins, and Me

We have been blessed of late with amazing weather here in Southwestern PA. Today it hit 75 degrees at a time when we normally would be shoveling snow and de-icing the cars. Instead, though, we have been enjoying crystal blue skies, giant fluffy clouds, and glorious sunsets.

I have been trying daily to enjoy the peacefulness of a beautiful day. All too often, I find it dark and realize that the entire day has been without sun or fresh air and it’s stifling to the soul. But tonight, I took advantage of a few minutes to enjoy my own little piece of heaven:

It’s might not look like much to many people, but I love how the sun is setting with such brilliance, shining the last of its intense rays on the houses we look upon. The light catching just the edges of our decorative pear trees, and too, in the shadows, our lovely weeping cherry just about to burst with her pink springiness.

Of course, never can I just sit. There are always papers to grade. Always.

But as I sat amidst nature’s quiet, I realized…nature’s not all that quiet…I had to get up to see what all the squawking and rustling was. (It was just a robin, but I seriously thought it was stuck somewhere and hurt!) And then every few minutes I would catch something flash by in the corner of my eye…

Can you see him there in the middle of the picture? Mr. Chipmunk, who worked tirelessly the entire time I was out there. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. When he headed to the wall, his cheeks were full of his evening finds. On the way to the shrubs, his cheeks were empty, ready for the bounty he would get. Often, he would stop and check me out, probably thinking, “Stupid human!” I’d move my feet and he’d dart to the safety of his wall. (Dear Mr. Chipmunk, please find a new home because in approximately two months, your home will be cemented in and Remodel Man will be laughing as he does it. He’s not a big fan of yours. He dislikes you almost as much as the deer who visit our yard, chew on our trees, rub their antlers on our too young shrubs, and leave us giant mounds of what looks like black jelly beans-but they’re not.)

Even in the midst of the noise of nature and the papers I have to grade, it was a lovely night, enjoying a few moments of peace and nature and my animal friends. And getting work done to boot!

It was almost as awesome as meeting Pioneer Woman, Marlboro Man, and three of their kids on Tuesday…but that story will have to wait for another day. 

A Quiet Morning

It is very rare that I get to enjoy a quiet morning alone with a cup of coffee and just be. Today is one of those days...mind you, I have already gotten Builder Boy off to school complete with sleeping through the first alarm, construction that made the 5 minutes drive almost 15 minutes, or the hour of work I've already done, so this wasn't exactly a roll out of bed and enjoy the quiet kind of day. Nonetheless, after all the morning craziness, I grabbed my cup of coffee and here I am.

Just being.

Just thinking.

Just enjoying the cat purring on the couch behind me

...the wind rattling these 130 year old windows

...the cars rolling by on the street outside

...the sound of the furnace kicking on to warm the house.

The day ahead holds a few smaller projects that will finally be checked of my list after too long, a mountain of exams to finish grading, some lessons to be planned, a dinner to be cooked, and some laundry to fold, but for the now, they are just the future. And for once, I am just enjoying the now.

Have a good day, everyone!

It Was a Long Time Coming

I have numerous drafted posts that continue to sit in my drafts folder. It seemed that every single one was filled with bitterness, negativity, and cynicism. They are downright pathetic and depressing. They were also raw and honest. I wanted to post them because of that-their honesty-but during the Christmas season, they didn't seem to have a place. The blogosphere was filled with joyous posts filled with all a litany of how every feels so blessed and hopeful and peaceful-and I just wasn't feeling it. Until Christmas Day. There on Christmas Day full of the stress of hosting my first Christmas dinner in a house that continues to be messy, cluttered and dirty, this feeling washed over me. Of relief. Of joy. Of contentment. Of hope.

Life continues to throw what feels like a constant curve ball at me. The bills continue to pile up. I am still confronted with my body's failure to reproduce again successfully. The clutter that envelops my home has a strangling hold on me. Yet, at a particularly stressful moment on Christmas Day (you know that moment when your home is filled with guests and the meal is just about to be served and every.single.food item.needs to be hot ten minutes ago!!), I felt washed over with peace because...

There sat my aunt who just finished her chemo treatments, whose hair is starting to grow back, who delighted in the presence of all of us...

There sat my dad whom we almost lost three years ago on Christmas Day. He sat contentedly with Deconstructor cat #1 filling his lap in all his big-boned sweetness, watching my son explore the new toys and Lego sets and books he had just received...

There played my son, revelling in the most exciting of days as Santa brought him two of the three Lego sets he wanted (yea, Santa couldn't afford the $400 Death Star Lego set!) loving on all of us there...

There sat my mother, who has had a tough year, yet never complained, who finally allowed herself to relax and let me and my sister handle the meal...who adores her grandson more than anything in the world...

There sat my newly engaged cousin with her about to deploy fiancee, happy and full of excitement about their future life together.

All this unbridled joy in my home, under my roof, not marred by the clutter or dirt or disorganization. Just there, filling my home. And for the first time in a long time, I felt lighter and happy and content.

I hope this same feeling reached you and yours this Christmas season. I am hopeful it will stick around in the new year...for me and for you.

I'm Still Here

Hi. Remember me? I used to blog here regularly. I blogged about my infertility. I blogged about my miscarriages. I blogged about my home and my family and my many jobs.

And now?

I'm not blogging. Clearly...

I'm not reading blogs. If I read blogs, I'm not commenting.

Why? I just don't have time. I just don't. And when I have five minutes to myself, I still have papers to grade and rooms to clean and bills to pay.

I miss it and it makes me sad and I hope that I will be able to write a bit more soon.

In the meantime, I hope that life is treating you all well. Happy Thanksgiving.

Present and Accounted For

Hi there. Here I am! A horribly bad blogger. A horribly overwhelmed human being. A horrible person who at this very moment in time should be doing 10 other things, but I figured I'd better get something up here or I'd lose all of my readers (all five of you!). Since eloquence has gone out the window only to be replaced with incoherence and exhaustion, I will leave you snippets of my life right now.

The reasons I am a bad blogger:

1. Last year, I had 44 students at one job and 23 students at my other job. This year, I have 87 students at one job and 115 at my other job. Um, yeah....

2. Builder Boy is in first grade...it's going to kill me.

3. We have at least 7 projects going on at the moment...all need to be finished and there is only one Remodel Man and no money or time.

4. I took a good look at our finances the other day. If you're me, I don't recommend doing this.

5. I have a new boss at my job...this person does not have any education experience. It's comical, and sad, and a very public situation.

6. I am begging for technology for my classroom...and by technology, I mean an overhead projector that works. Hello, 1978! (I'd love a VHS that works, too, but really, that would be way to 1985 for us!)

7. My brain is mush.

8. I realized the other day that if I died tomorrow, I would die unhappy, and that would make me even unhappier. (Yea, I get it, I'd be dead and all, but you know what I mean.).

9. My prayers have gone from asking for help and guidance to downright begging. I'm thinking the Lord thinks I'm kind of pathetic.

10. Pregnant women and babies are all around me...I'm doing mostly well with it. Mostly. Well, sort of okay. Okay, let's just say that all those years of acting are an immense help to me right now.

11. I am gaining weight. I'm flabbergasted by this. Yet, I won't stop eating.

I cannot tell you how many times I have opened up my Compose Post page, filled with words and thoughts and ideas, only to close in back up in fear. Fear of what? No idea, but I close up once I actually commit to writing. I think it's partly because I've said it all before...there's no new ideas in there. I live the same day, month, year, over and over again, and frankly put, it's depressing. So very many of my blog friends are joyful where they are in their lives and I don't want to rain on their parade. So I don't write. And yet I want to. But I don't. ARRRRGHH!!!

I'm still here and hoping that this post will open the floodgates. That I will make time to write. But this school year is kicking my butt, so all I can promise is that I'll do my best.

Approach With Fortitude Then Run Away Scared

I did it today...well, part of it.  I've dreaded it for years now.  The thought of it made me physically ill and created panic attacks of epic proportions.  But I put on my big girl panties, walked up those flights of stairs to our third floor and walked right up to those boxes and bins.  I walked up to them, determined that I would show them who's boss around here.  I waded through piles of stored items until in the farthest corner of the room, buried deep amongst Christmas wrapping paper, newly put away preschool toys, a play kitchen, and cookie tins, there they were in all their glory.

It was a bit of a showdown...I stared at them, and they stared right back in all their dusty glory.  I would not be deterred, no sir.  I dropped my hand right into their midst and grabbed the first thing my hand felt-a small bag. I whisked them away from their counterparts, bigger and fuller boxes and bags, and marched back downstairs, threw them on my bed, prepared to show them that I meant business.  I ripped open that bag and the items scattered across the freshly made linens. 

Oh...

It took my breath away.  Literally stole the breath from my body.  Out tumbled pastel fluffiness.  And I thought my heart might break. 

In this small bag of items that had been forgotten when the initial box of baby items had been sent into storage seclusion was a mishmash of babyhood.  A few small changing pads, a few bibs, a couple of hats, and a sheet for the pack and play.  That's it.  Nothing more.  No cute socks, or a favorite outfits, or cuddly blankets.  Nothing that held any particular memory.  Yet, that mishmash of forgotten items with no particular memory instead held all the memories.  All the things I have feared facing as we end our journey. 

I have left all of Builder Boy's clothes, toys, and linens untouched.  We have had no need for the space, and so there has been no need to purge any of the baby things.  I kept them at first for our next baby.  When the next baby alluded us, I kept it for the "just in case baby."  But "just in case" baby has become "never gonna happen baby."  It's time.  I feel it.  It's time to let go...of the journey, or the dream...and all of the baggage that goes with it.

In the midst of writing this,  reliving that brief moment, I had to stop.  On the verge of hysteria, my only thought was, "Call PorscheNut."  We spent some time crying on the phone together...she's already done this purging of baby items...and talking about how it was the memories that mattered, not the things, and that this parenting step was so incredibly hard.  Now still feels like the right time, though.  With Black Belt Mama expecting her baby boy soon, now is the time to move on, let someone else use the precious items.  It seems a whole lot easier to give them to someone I love instead of packing them up in garbage bags to be sifted through at Goodwill. 

I ran away from that little bag upstairs.  It's all waiting for me on my bed.  I will have to confront it at some point before bedtime.  Then again, I can always sleep in the spare room...

Just Try To Wipe This Smile Off My Face (Final Episode of the Boob Saga)

Monday to Wednesday night had to be some of the longest days of my life.  I tried very hard to stay in a good place and focus on what the doctor said...it looked benign.  People who know these kind of things assured me that she wouldn't have said this if she wasn't very sure of this.  And I did really well. 

The doctor had told me that the results would come back rather quickly and I could hear as early as Wednesday.  Of course, I spent much of Wednesday sneaking away from the training session I was in to see if she had left a message.  On the drive home from the training session, it all kind of hit me.  How life-altering this message could be. The plans that would have to be made.  The decisions.  The management of it all.  It overwhelmed me.  After holding it all for two days, the floodgates had opened.

I had just enough time to drive from one part of the city to the other, hopping from one job to the next.  I spent most of that time losing it and controlling myself on a repeated cycle.  As I got closer to work, I managed to pull myself together enough.  But I did spend much of my time there continuing to check my messages.  Finally, after 5, the doctor had called. 

Let me just interject here that this imaging center has provided me with the utmost care and concern.  You always expect pediatric places or places that deal with potentially terminal conditions will give incredibly kind and compassionate care. Unfortunately, this isn't always the case as my aunt has discovered as she battles breast cancer.  But the place I went to was amazing from setting the appointment to talking to the doctor about the biopsy results. 

So I called the doctor, on her cell phone!, and she told me the news.

BENIGN.  Come back in a year.

And since that moment, I haven't stopped smiling.