Changes

I HATE CHANGE! Sometimes though, it is for the best. I have lived in my house for nearly 5 years now. I've accumulated much stuff, I hate the upkeep on the outside, detest the fact that there is no air conditioning, and my most favorite thing in the world to do, swim, is not easily accessible here. Yet, because I also hate to pack up and move, like most people, and because my ex-coworker owns the house, I stayed here. Then we brought the baby home and I fixed up her room, the first baby among my brothers and I to actually have a nursery to come home to. I've planted trees and shrubs here, I've literally and figuratively put down roots here in this house. Now I've got to move, I know that this move is better financially for our family, and there is also a belief that being able to sprawl out so in our house has allowed us to become less cohesive than we once were. The activities that are easily available where we are moving to hopefully will bring us back together. It may come at a bad time, Sydney has reached puberty, the hormones fly around abundantly, but for the summer at least, we will have a place for them to be released. I'm scared that we aren't doing the right thing, we've decided to move our little family into a two bedroom apartment, but I know families larger than ours that were raised in tiny two bedroom houses and are perhaps, all the closer for it. So here we go, with God as our captain, off on another adventure. Now, I could see more clearly the possibility this holds, if I could keep the tears from clouding my vision.

Avoidance

Avoidance is a way of managing conflict. I've been studying it over the last five weeks in my communications class, but I've been utilizing it for most of my life. My grandmother called me the day after Valentines day to tell me that she had a tumor that must be removed, that it was cancer. She had the surgery and they were unable to remove the tumor. When she called me to tell me that she had the cancer in the first place, I began to process the information, knowing that over the years I had not maintained relationships with the rest of my mother's family well enough that I would feel comfortable contacting them to get updates about my grandmother's condition. I spoke to my grandmother about a week ago, she told me that they had not gotten all the cancer and that it had spread to other areas of her body, I had already heard this from my aunt and my cousin, both of whom were kind enough to give me some details. I didn't know what else to say to her. I know the chances of her beating cancer at her age are significantly lower than someone younger, I know that she is a very independent person who has told me time and again that she does not want to spend her final years as an invalid, so from that moment in February when she told me about the tumor, I began to pray, I pray that my grandmother is able to enjoy some independence for the rest of her life. I pray that if the cancer is the reason for her death, that she will not spend a long time in agonizing pain. I praise the Lord that I am blessed with a beautiful and courageous woman as my grandmother, one that I was able to learn from and socialize with through my life, even though I was not able to live down the street from her. I praise the Lord for the knowledge that death is not the end, but only a pause until we are together again in Heaven where we can enjoy each other's company without the stresses and strains of daily life. Oh, but back to avoidance, I am feeling mentally prepared for bad news, but there are yet some hurdles for me to jump, because I haven't picked up the phone again to call and find out how she is. My cousin posted on her blog that my grandmother may have as little as three months to live, but because I am still a little afraid of the tears that will come with the confirmation of that, I have not picked up the phone or sent an e-mail to understand that statement further. Perhaps it is because it is enough for me to know that my once weekly, and lately monthly, phone calls will no longer be answered, perhaps it is because I don't know how to put into words what I feel. It is different for me than it is for the rest of my mother's family, I'm sure, I have been disconnected from the flock for most of my life, and try as I might to rejoin, I've been unable to do so. How to overcome this block I have in my mind, I'm pondering this, eventually I will come to an answer, hopefully before the opportunity has passed.

Accountability

In reflecting on my life and how to improve those things which I want to improve upon, I've realized that it has been a very long time since I was accountable to someone. I generally make my rules up as I go along, make little promises along the way and those I do make to myself and to others, while I have the best of intentions, I am pretty bad at following through on. So, in saying that and in considering my rediscovered faith and dedication in living my life the way God has planned, I am accountable to Him. Well, I need a little, erm, maybe a lot of help, and I've been thinking that I'm probably not the only one. SO, on Sunday morning I woke up in a panic, well Syd starts baseball next Saturday and it was raining on Sunday after the snow had mostly melted and the baseball gear was, well where else, in the back yard under the melted snow and now it was getting even wetter. Accountability, I had not followed through when Syd said she was going out to get her stuff a week ago. So out I went, I found a ball and a bat. Here comes Al, he says, what about the gloves, so he finds one wet glove, it is getting dryer as the week goes by, and Syd comes home, and finds the bag and the other glove, so now they are drying. I really hope I don't have to replace that stuff, it isn't free after all.
Back to the subject here, now this is just one of the MANY available examples of how not following through is costly. So, I realized that I've pretty much been moving through life with very little idea of what direction I'm headed on a daily basis. Ever try to get to a new destination without a map, not too easy. So, I began by laying out some goals for Sunday, I accomplished a few, and a few are still in progress.

• Clean Sydney's room Getting there
• Clean Brooklyn's room Done
• Finish homework Done
• The list goes on, but I'll stop here I suppose, it's just a bunch of boring stuff, point is that I accomplished about half.

So I'll keep trying, I recall my cousin asking me once where I wanted to be in 5 years. The answer was "Walking Sydney to Kindergarten" Well, I accomplished that, 6 years ago, might be time to work a little harder. So here I go.

It's working

I chose the field of communications in which to pursue my Bachelors Degree because I figured that at the very least it would be interesting and it may improve my ability to develop interpersonal relationships and to understand that I'm not so different from everyone else. It's working, today I met with a new daycare provider, interviewed her and hired her. I was also able to ask a question that I was afraid would make another person uncomfortable and found that the interaction wasn't so hard afterall.

So baby B will go to a home daycare two days a week and Al will get the sleep that he has thus far refused to admit he needs. So we will be putting out more money than we have before, but really the cost is not too over the top and we can afford it.

Nearly March, ALREADY?

Oh well, I forgot that I'd written about going back to counseling. Of course, I can't remember much sometimes. HA, that is actually getting much better. I did finish counseling. I went weekly at first, then bi-weekly, then waited over a month to go to the last session. It helped so very much and I dealt with some old issues and the new ones that were going on with work. Heres what I accomplished between my first appointment and my last.

• Continued to renew my faith in Christ, I am not going to church weekly, not even monthly, but I worship daily through time spent reflecting, time spent praising, and time spent reminding myself that I am loved and BEAUTIFUL and that the Lord walks with me all the time.
• I came to an understanding of my conflicts with the things going on at work and "unhooked" from all the drama
• Because I finally "unhooked" I had the courage to apply for a job that I've been eyeing for 18 months, and I was hired for the job.
• Started the job, and have made numerous new friends.
• Got through CHRISTMAS, THANKSGIVING, and the ANNIVERSARY, without tears of sorrow. This is the first time since becoming an orphan at 18 that I have done this.
• No longer suffering from memory lapses (well nothing out of the ordinary) heartburn, stomach aches, head aches, or days spent at work without speaking.
• Finished three more classes towards my Bachelors in Communications.

Counseling is wonderful, the Lord is wonderful. I am blessed to have a wonderful family, good friends, both new and old, and a good life.

On a sad note, my dear Grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. I pray for her to not suffer, that the time she has left is peaceful and that she has more than the two years that are estimated. We hope to be able to visit her at least one last time, but this is in the hands of the Lord.

Counseling, again, maybe I can finish this time

I started seeing a counselor this week. Well I've been to counseling over the last two years, but it was family counseling and counseling for Sydney. This time I went for me because I can't seem to remember anything lately. I sent out an e-mail in October and asked how my friend was on this fine September day. I got out of the car the other day and realized that it had totally slipped my mind that the baby was in the backseat (no danger to the baby, I never left the car and Syd was right there with her too). I can't remember if I've taken my pills, well that's always been a problem, that's why I religiously use a pill minder. When I'm at work, my stomach hurts, I've got heart burn, and I don't talk for the entire 9 hours I'm there some days. Stress, says the doctor, no physical reason to be this way, all bloodwork is normal aside from my sugars being slightly elevated, but that could still be the pregnancy hormones straightening out with my diabetes. I'm not demented he says, great, thanks. So he says go to counseling for stress management tecniques. I agree, a new baby, going to school full time, Sydney getting older, managing both Al's and my chronic illnesses, lots and lots on my plate, but I don't belive it's entirely new to me to have a full (overflowing) plate, most of the women in my family are highly functioning people. So off I go to the counslor for our first session. I think it will help, I feel better already. You know, I wonder if I'll every fully deal with my mother's illness, her life, her death, and its effects on my life and my reactions to stress. I think I have it handled and something sneaks up on me. Here I go again.
Another think I've been doing is recommiting in my faith. My faith in God and my walk as a Christian have led me through some of my darkest days. I've not allowed myself to be as faithful as I was as a child, and I want to be there again. So I'm praying more and reminding myself that in His arms I have nothing to fear.

My own baby story

On July 8th I entered the hospital to begin induction of labor. I went into a small room with my daughter, my Al and my youngest brother to artificially begin the natural child birth process. They placed Citotek (Sp?) on my cervix twice at three hour intervals and hooked me up to the fetal monitors to ensure that Brooklyn was tolerating the process. The first drop in fetal heart rate occurred shortly after the first application of Citotek. A couple of hours went by, but no further signs of distress from Brooklyn, so they applied the second dose, after finding NO progress being made on the labor front. The second dose brought about more signs of fetal distress, through the night a worried nurse continually checked, telling me to sleep, but HA how is one to sleep upon hearing her child's heart rate drop so low and waiting the two minutes which seemed to be an eternity, to hear the heart rate return to normal. Who can sleep wondering if the next time they wake up, the heart beat of that little person will no longer be there? My OB arrived around 7 a.m. the morning of July 9th to check the strip and verify what the nurse felt she was seeking. No more Citotek, as it was endangering the baby, but now they were looking at an IV of pitocen to further the process. Notice it was to further the process, not to speed the process, as apparently starting the IV without the Citotek doing it's job means the first stages of labor would probably take 24 hours to start. So she calls my Perinatologist, who says that it is too dangerous, a Cesarean is the only way to ensure that both of us survive labor. OH, OH, this is my worst fear, this is the one thing that I haven't even explored because I am so terrified of it. I begin to cry, I can't stop crying, this means gaping hole in my abdomen, in a spot that is prone to infection due to the extra weight I carry, this means a major surgery and a long recovery. This means more risk of leaving possibly not one but two daughters motherless as I am. There's no other way though, we'll begin immediately.
In walks the anesthesiologist. Who takes one look at Al and says "Hey How are you?" Al says, "Nice to see you, this is my baby coming!"
Turns out the two knew each other as the Doctor worked his way through medical school at my beloved Fitzgerald's. This is a good omen, I'm still scared of the procedure, but this is a good omen to me, this is lucky.
So they give me some nasty stuff to empty my stomach, I drink it down and they wheel me down the hall through the doors of the surgery suite. Al is to wait until the epidural is done, but after many tries to get the epidural in place have failed, I end up opting for general anesthesia and Al can't come into the room. So I am out for the birth of my little Brooklyn. I wake up at 10:15 in a recovery room, my first thought is, oh good, I'm alive, Sydney still has a mother. I can't talk yet, but I can think and I can hear, and I've heard someone say recently that Brooklyn is fine. It seems forever, but I find a little strength to ask the nurse if the baby is good, she's perfect, no need for NICU or anything, just perfect, she's in the nursery being cared for until I am back in the land of the living. No Al at my side, no brother, no daughter, but I am not afraid or even upset by it, I know they are somewhere near Brooklyn, staring at her and watching like a hawk, because they know that is what I want them to do. I lay there awhile longer, finally I see a little curly head peak around the curtain, eyes red from crying, I say "I'm ok, Syd, I'm ok, how's your sister? Beautiful?" Yep! So now they are going to take me to a room down the hall to recover some more, the next 12 hours are critical apparently, for me and my blood sugars. Ok, so I sleep off and on, and I feel pain in my abdomen, I wonder what it looks like there, it hurts a little, that's for certain. Where is the baby? In the nursery still, they will bring her soon. Finally at 2:10, they bring her in, she was born at 9:11 a.m. and I didn't see her until 2:10 p.m., so strange for me, I couldn't get up and go find her, but Al knew where she was and had check on her numerous times. It may be years before I get all of that time accounted for, but I know that eventually my wonderful Al who says so few words, will trickle out what occurred while I was out of commission. So they bring her in and I hold her for the first time in my arms, she has Al's nose, dark black hair just as soft as Sydney's was, and big beautiful pouty lips. She's 7lbs 5.5 oz and 18 inches long. Such a good baby, loves to be swaddled, sleeps so well. They moved me after 12 hours to the post partum floor. It was a beautiful room with a fake skylight and this big huge window facing east. The first order of business was them making sure I could get up to go to the bathroom. YEP, then they left the IV in my arm overnight to ensure that I could have medication quickly if needed, but it turned out to be unnecessary. I think there was something I was allergic to in the IV or something, my arm was swollen to twice it's size and very stiff until this morning when I took some benydryl. The nurse thought perhaps the IV had infiltrated the vein and some medication was stuck under the skin, but it was swollen and itchy, which is what happens when I find myself in contact with any kind of sulfate.
The doctor came in on Saturday morning to check on me. He said that dependent on how I was feeling I could possibly go home on Sunday, if I met certain mile stones, that was getting up, walking the halls, having a bowel movement and being able to manage my pain with medication. Ok, now I had something to work on throughout the day, so I did. Sunday morning the doctor came in and said you will probably be here two more days, then we can get your sugars managed, I said, "can I go home today?" Oh You want to? YES YES AND YES
So I got to go home on Sunday!
Our first night home was a little rough. I've never been fantastic at making a four ounce Playtex nurser hold two ounces of formula, so she seemed to not have enough to eat or something until I switched to the Gerber bottle in the middle of the night. Then she slept at three hour stretches, which gave me time to rest too. now she's been asleep nearly four hours and it's time to wake her to eat. She's so beautiful, Sydney and I can't stop staring at her!