I have never had a great relationship with my boobs. I guess it’s always been sort of a love/hate thing going on. I got them early and when they showed up, they weren’t small and cute, not at all. They made me stand out from everyone else who hadn’t even started going through puberty yet. I blame this on karma. You see, I used to grab my heavy-set grandma’s huge bras and put them on and make fun of them when I was little...and don’t you know I ended up with her exact body later in life. Karma. I swear. Anyway, my boobs attracted a lot of unwanted attention first in the form of teasing and eventually in the form of interest, and I hated both. It took me a long time to get used to even wearing a bra, which I hated so much. I waited until people started telling me I HAD to wear a bra before I ever did. And then it made it hard to find dresses and things that fit my chest and were still modest and appropriate for a tween. Needing an 8th grade white graduation dress that was formal, we had to go to a bridal shop. My mom found the most modest one we could, but even then it was impossible to hide my boobs. It was mortifying on graduation night to have the principal walk down the line as we waited to walk in and start criticizing my dress and saying it was inappropriate and tugging it up higher on my chest. Eventually I started wearing big, oversized shirts and sports bras to help conceal them. It just really sucked. My sister always had small boobs, and so we were jealous of each other, and I always told her she could have them, that I would gladly give them up. That it wasn't great to have big old boobs.
At some point I realized the power they held and I learned to use it if I needed it. I learned to embrace the jokes and enjoy the attention they brought. Being bi myself, I still didn’t really get the appeal but whatever. (Their just sacks of yellow fat*) Pregnancy and nursing did a real number on them, and after my third baby weaned they were left sort of sad looking. I still didn’t really care either way about them. It took a long time in between babies to view them in a sexual way again, which I’m guessing is necessary and normal. While before I needed the most supportive bra out there, now I just needed something to push up and round out all the deflated tissue. Seriously, I joked that they looked like sad deflated balloons. Eventually I got my nipples re-pierced and tried to make peace with them again. Fast forward 5 more pregnancies and nursing 2 babies and yeah...my boobs are definitely not what they used to be, but they are sort of the least of all my body concerns, appearance-wise. They actually look small to me compared to my stomach that just won’t go down thanks to ab separation. But they are there and I know them well.
*As a super side note, please go to youtube and watch Rachel Bloom's gem of a song and video "Heavy Boobs". I needed this song way back when.
*******************************************************************************
Last week as I go in the car to go shopping for vacation supplies, my daughter grabbed the mail for me. It had come hours earlier but I forgot to check it, so it was around 4pm on a Wednesday. There was the letter from the radiology center, and I expected to find the same letter I got last year from my first mammogram saying all was clear. Except that is not what the letter said. It stated that there was a “finding” on my images that needed additional pictures and possibly an ultrasound. Now, I am a medical professional and radiology is my field, but that did not help calm the panic I immediately felt. Sitting in my car in the driveway I called the number to try and schedule something, and because of our vacation I wasn’t able to get an appointment for over 10 days away. We did the shopping and I was more than distracted and really irritable and forgot half of what I needed and bought a bunch of crap I didn’t need. I called again when I got home and couldn’t find a location anywhere even remotely near me with a diagnostic appointment available in the next 2 days.
My sister is a mammo tech (not in the same state) and so I spent a long time on the phone freaking out going over every possible scenario. I know “finding” can be almost anything at all that wasn’t on my last mammogram images, so it could be nothing or it could be something. I didn’t have the report to try and further determine what they might be seeing, and I only knew it was my left side because of the scheduler reminding me of no deodorant on the left side. (Deodorant contains aluminum which is a metal and can create artifacts on images) I was shirtless on the phone frantically feeling around my boobs for something, anything, while my sister assured me it was not likely something I’d be able to feel. I feel my boobs all the time. I have never felt anything, ever. I was locked in my room freaking the fuck out and trying to hide it from everyone because I don’t need them to worry too. I was sad, but I was also mad. I spent all of last summer anxious with worry over a situation that ruined the entire summer and even our vacation, and here we were again about to go on our only family vacation of the year and it was going to be ruined for me. I went around and around with my sister...put it out of my head for my vacation and worry when we get back (hahaHA), if I find out bad news before vacation that’s going to ruin vacation, and on and on. She said a million times “Slow your Roll”. I stressed myself into exhaustion and finally went to bed. I had texted a few close friends I work with and just asked them for prayers to help calm me down. My girls, bless them, said whatever it is we are in this with you.
Maybe this all seems dramatic and over-the-top. Maybe it was. But when I heard something could be wrong with me, like really, really wrong, I was sad and scared and in denial. Sad this was happening at all, sad I couldn't just go on vacation for the second year in a row without a worry, volleying back and forth between thinking everything was ok to believing it was not. My fight or flight was in flight mode, wanting to just run the heck outta town as soon as possible, wanting to not confront this issue at all. I didn't try to think or feel a certain way, it all just came in huge crashing waves I had no control over. I just kept thinking about how my baby is only 3, how nothing could be wrong with me. and then I thought of my dear sweet friend who is nearing the end of her life, and how her babies are only 14 and 17, and it just all got to be overwhelming and real and unfair, and I was smacked in the face with the fact that this very well could be happening to me. It isn't just some distant thing my happening to someone else. It was sobering and scary as fuck.
Quick side note: A long time ago my sister and I decided that if we ever found a lump or anything in our breasts, we would opt for a double mastectomy and be done with it. None of this lumpectomy/try and salvage my breasts bullshit. It’s just not worth the risk of leaving any tissue. My dad has breast cancer, but it was non-genetic. Before we knew that, it was suggested I start having mammograms at age 30, which is usually the recommendation if a parent has had it. Because it was non-genetic (meaning he didn’t have the gene to pass down to me) I could start at age 40, which is the non-risk factor age, and I did.
I thought I would wake up the next day feeling ok, but I only felt worse. As soon as I opened my eyes it was the first thing I thought of. I called to check for cancellations first thing but got nowhere. I felt myself becoming more frantic about the whole thing. My sister tried to tell me things I already knew...anything that looks different than last year can be a finding. I weight more now than last year so there could be an increase in fatty tissue. I have had another pregnancy, and even unsuccessful pregnancies can cause hormonal changes. Finally, I reached out to a friend and co-worker that also works at that center. She’s an an ultrasound tech who could at least pull my report...or maybe get someone to squeeze me in as a favor??? I send off spastic tech messages. Finally call back the scheduling line while I wait to hear from my friend...they have a 2pm appointment at my friend’s office. Ok. Great. 2pm. But, OMG now I am going to know something in a few hours. How am I going to get through this without crying. I text my husband he needs to go with me. But who’s going to pack for vacation, we leave in the morning? I call my mom and tell her I’m bringing the kids to her, I got an appointment. I start crying, I can’t help it, I am TERRIFIED. I say I want my sister. Ok, I need to get it together this isn’t helping anyone. I go up to shower and get dressed and start throwing random shit into my suitcase. No idea what I am even packing, I am just grabbing stuff as I see it.
I take a long hot shower and actually shave. I let super hot water hit my shoulders and back. I think about what it would mean if my results are bad. I say I don’t care about my boobs, but is that really true? I realize that if it’s bad, then that’s a definite end to my reproductive years for sure. That treatments would make it so, and it wouldn’t matter because I would lose my only way to feed a baby with my body. I start to appreciate my boobs more than I ever have before. I realize a few moments later that I will miss the sexual part of my breasts as well. I know nerve damage would likely happen and fake boobs aren’t the same. I also pray in the shower for some peace.
After I shower I text my best friend. Can you meet me at 2pm? I have my follow-up I don’t want to go alone. All she asks is the address.
I drop the kids at my moms; she asks if I want her to go. I tell her no, best friend is going to meet me there. I think she feels kind of bad that it’s my sister and then best friend in the order of who I want with me. We meet at the center and I check in. First schedule mix up with spelling of my name so they can’t find me, then they ask for a doctor’s order which they didn’t tell me I needed for a callback??, then asking me for almost $400 towards my deductible which I don’t think is right. I’m already on edge and close to tears, I don’t have it in me to fight and make a scene. They sense this and offer to charge me half and call my doctor for the order. My friend who works there find me and is shocked to see me so rattled.
My friend waiting with me tells me stories (it’s been a couple weeks since we caught up) to keep me distracted. She sits back with me after I get that open-in-the-front gown on and makes me laugh. I am glad to see the tech that gets me is an older lady who has been doing this forever, and it totally comforting when I tell her I’m nervous. (Younger techs are great, too, but this one has been around the block and has surely had her own boobs squashed before) She gives me a lot of info about what they saw before and what she is doing, which I appreciate. It’s by my nipple so I get a nipple marker (a band-aid with a lead dot in the middle that goes over the nipple. Lead absorbs the radiation and leaves a clear space. It’s helpful because nipple tissue can leave a density on images and they use this to rule out nipple tissue vs something else). She places it on my nipple. I have no modesty in me, I’d show the world my boobs at this point. She asks about pain or lumps and I am 10000 percent certain I have none. One picture then back to waiting. My friend is still sitting outside the room. I show her my lovely nipple marker. There are other women in pink gowns in this area. Everyone is friendly with each other and I guess there isn’t much other way to be when we all have our boobs hanging out and getting squashed and are all scared we might have cancer. Everytime the door opens I’m looking to see if it’s my tech. I’m bouncing on the chair and my friend looks me dead in the eye and says we got this, no matter what. I’m not alone and that is what I need to know right now. Eventually it is my tech, and they need another picture. It’s looking like a blood vessel or something bunched up around the nipple so they have to try and smooth out the tissue and take a view that will fan out the slices. This one actually hurts a bit but I am ok with it. She could stomp it flat if it means they can figure out what’s going on in my breast. I’m back to waiting and my friend and I are just being ridiculous and loud telling stories but there is no other way to be when one needs a distraction. Finally the tech comes back and says it’s all clear. It was fibrous tissue around the nipple and I don’t need anything else I can come back in a year. It doesn’t sink it at first until my friend is hugging me saying it’s ok. I get dressed and my friend who works there comes and gets us and shows us her office. She is as surprised I brought someone. “You are tough as nails, but not about this” she comments shaking her head in sympathy at me. She was already to scan me when she saw my ultrasound was cancelled. I get hugs, text everyone the news. My friend and I leave to go get celebratory drinks at 3pm on a Thursday afternoon. I say a prayer of thanks, because I am well aware how that could have gone the other way.
It was some of the worst 24 hours I have ever had, anxiety-wise. But it was also beautiful in hindsight because I often feel alone, but it was a great reminder that I’m not. I don’t have a group of mommy friends or a village of family, but I have a group of us who have chosen each other. My best friend I met through our kids school, but my other friends are work framily, and I am so thankful for them.
So here is my PSA:
Please, please, please get your mammograms. Every single year. Don’t put it off, and don’t wait. It is not scary, and it’s not really that painful. And check your boobs often!!! Know what they feel like at different times of the month. It’s so damn important!! I know that a while back there was a report that self-exams weren’t needed or whatever, but that it bullshit. You need to know what your boobs feel like so you can tell when something feels different. A general rule is to get your first screening at age 40, unless you have a reason to get it sooner. Yes, it's just one more appointment to make time for. But it is an important one. A screening mammogram takes no time at all. Even for my very first one the entire thing took under a half hour, from walking in the door and checking in to leaving. Most insurance companies pay 100% for a screening, and even if you don't have that coverage (or any at all) hospitals and county programs provide free screenings. Early detection saves lives. And it is WAY better to know going in to one that one year ago you had a clear mammogram, or to know what kind of breast tissue you have, or any other thing. You need a baseline so they know when something is off or when it could have started. do yourself and your family this favor.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Monday, June 3, 2019
Life lately and a furry new addition
I can’t believe I really haven’t written here in so long. I would always feel like I had something to say and then just get stuck. A couple months ago we were dealing with some heavy stuff that would probably have made great posts but I lacked the emotion energy to sort them out in writing.
My mom had a health scare and was hospitalized in March and I felt the full burden of being the only one of my siblings who lives in town. Around this same time I had a few separate teenage parenting issues to deal with that were super stressful and heartbreaking to navigate. In the grand scheme of things they were pretty minor compared to what they could have been, but it still felt extremely difficult while we were in it.
We also had some very wonderful moments too. We took trips to the petting zoo and picked strawberries on the first day of the season. I took 2 quick solo trips (36 hrs and 23 hrs) for my sister’s 50th birthday and for a show in NYC. We spent a fabulous day just the kids and I in DC during spring break. We had a pre-k graduation and next week will have a high school graduation, which is bananas. We are having a party afterwards with more people than I have ever hosted before and we are DIY-ing all of it, even the food. I’m starting a family diet challenge this weekend with several members of my family, because I need something that is going to keep me focused. I have spent less time on myself these past several months than I ever have, and I need to get it together. I know how, I just need support, and at least with my family it will be a lot love vs trying to sell me a product, like a lot of these online “coaches”. Our pool opened last weekend so I am excited to get back there, even if I am less than stoked about putting on a damn bathing suit. I just started a biggest Loser competition with some members of my family, which is going to be fun and probably better accountability than those online “coach” programs, because we aren’t afraid to be real with each other if the scale isn’t movingly can tell each other to do better in a way that’s harsh but filled with love. No real prize except for helping each other. So far the text chain has been hilarious and heartening. And I found a workout I actually love, it’s called the Be.come Project and it’s online and an app, and it’s a body positive, yoga-inspired workout that works on the mental aspect as well. I have found it very helpful for getting out of my negative body-shaming mindset and it’s been the best thing I discovered. There is a free trial available, so anyone can check it out to see if it’s for them.
But everyone is happy and healthy and all together we are in a great place. I know I tend to only write about the negative feelings anymore, but truly there is so much good happening every day, as I told my girls the other day “We are the lucky ones.”
And finally...we have a new puppy! I didn’t want a puppy, I didn’t plan on getting a puppy. Here’s the quick-ish backstory:
My niece and her boyfriend decided to get a dog. They went to a local rescue and fell in love with a puppy that was 6 weeks old. Due to the age of the pup, this rescue was looking for fosters to take multiple puppies to care for until they were old enough to spay/neuter and then the foster family can adopt after that. She called me crying because she didn’t want to take two and have to give one back to the shelter in a couple weeks but they knew they couldn’t handle two puppies that would grow into 80lb dogs. I wasn’t ready for another dog after losing two in a year and a half. I hadn’t even been able to take my kids to the shelters like they asked because my heart hurt. And after our last adventure raising 2 puppies, we vowed never again to have a puppy. My husband got wind of this dilemma with my niece and so he was like “Of course we will take one.” And I was all skeptical but he got the kids on board and it all went downhill from there. I told my niece to try her best but after 2 days she was like yeah there is no way we can handle two of them. They picked the one they were keeping and brought the puppy up to meet my kids and told everyone that was their dog. The plan was that I was going to meet her the day we could finalize the adoption (1.5hrs from me without traffic) so I could pay my half of the fee, ect. And then she changed her mind and didn’t know how she would split them up at all and it became drama. So I just told her not to involve us because I wasn’t doing the back and forth with her decision or the dogs or having her be all upset over it or wanting the dog back at some point or what have you. So that happened and I just told my kids we weren’t getting the dog and I went on about life. I was a little pissed because she got my kids excited and brought the dog to meet my kids (which was HER idea, not mine!) but then I was out of town for a couple days for my sister’s birthday and got home and went right back to work. The week after I realized the kids (and my husband) were all still upset and bummed out so I told them we would look for a dog. Maybe (probably) not a puppy but an older dog or at least an older puppy closer to a year old. That my niece’s dog wasn’t the right one for us but that we would take our time and find the right one for us. That following weekend my husband took the kids to the shelters (I keep maintaining that he was free to go to shelters and adoption fairs and look and bring something home. I have trouble going in to shelters and wanting ALL the dogs) but they didn’t find anything. Our local shelters had low census (happily!) but told us to look at the websites because they are able to keep them updated. Thanks to petfinders “Pets available near you” feature, I wasn’t even looking for her, but I found her. I saw her face and I just knew she was ours. I put in an application late Saturday night, and we brought her home Monday evening. We have had her 4 weeks now and she is awesome, and perfect and just so smart. She came to us super polite already knowing how to sit without being prompted, and now she knows how to give paw and she learned lay down in a single day! Her name is Leia (as in Princess) and she’s definitely the one for us. I didn’t want a puppy, I wasn’t looking for a puppy, but there she was. And I am so glad we found her.
She is a lab mix and is definitely considered a large breed and will likely weight around 80lbs. She has grown a ton in the 4 weeks we have had her and gained over 11 lbs so far. We think she may be mixed with boxer and possibly german shepherd based on how she looks compared to internet pictures we have searched. I am considering doing one of those Wisdom dna panels to know for sure. The rescue said one of her litter mates that was black and white looked like a hound, and there was another one that was all white with some brown that looked more like ours. There were 7 of them all together but I only know about the ones that were all in the same foster home as ours. But she's way too big for any hound mix and doesn't seem to have hound traits at all so far. Litters can be fathered by different dogs so it definitely makes it interesting trying to figure it out.
It took a little under a week for my other dog to get used to her and for them to start playing together. Now they act like fools tearing through the house wrestling and stealing each other's food and its been SO good for. She was lonely without her sister and it will keep her young. (She is 7) My new pup was born and rescued from the same area in WV and estimated to be born around the same time of year, so they are almost exactly 7 years apart.
Here is the picture that made me fall in love with her:
and a couple others taken the night we brought her home:
This is the most recent pic I took the other night. It was late and she was SO sleepy from a busy day of learning new things.
the first night she decided the puppy wasn't going anywhere. 6 days in.
reluctant couch sharer.
My mom had a health scare and was hospitalized in March and I felt the full burden of being the only one of my siblings who lives in town. Around this same time I had a few separate teenage parenting issues to deal with that were super stressful and heartbreaking to navigate. In the grand scheme of things they were pretty minor compared to what they could have been, but it still felt extremely difficult while we were in it.
We also had some very wonderful moments too. We took trips to the petting zoo and picked strawberries on the first day of the season. I took 2 quick solo trips (36 hrs and 23 hrs) for my sister’s 50th birthday and for a show in NYC. We spent a fabulous day just the kids and I in DC during spring break. We had a pre-k graduation and next week will have a high school graduation, which is bananas. We are having a party afterwards with more people than I have ever hosted before and we are DIY-ing all of it, even the food. I’m starting a family diet challenge this weekend with several members of my family, because I need something that is going to keep me focused. I have spent less time on myself these past several months than I ever have, and I need to get it together. I know how, I just need support, and at least with my family it will be a lot love vs trying to sell me a product, like a lot of these online “coaches”. Our pool opened last weekend so I am excited to get back there, even if I am less than stoked about putting on a damn bathing suit. I just started a biggest Loser competition with some members of my family, which is going to be fun and probably better accountability than those online “coach” programs, because we aren’t afraid to be real with each other if the scale isn’t movingly can tell each other to do better in a way that’s harsh but filled with love. No real prize except for helping each other. So far the text chain has been hilarious and heartening. And I found a workout I actually love, it’s called the Be.come Project and it’s online and an app, and it’s a body positive, yoga-inspired workout that works on the mental aspect as well. I have found it very helpful for getting out of my negative body-shaming mindset and it’s been the best thing I discovered. There is a free trial available, so anyone can check it out to see if it’s for them.
But everyone is happy and healthy and all together we are in a great place. I know I tend to only write about the negative feelings anymore, but truly there is so much good happening every day, as I told my girls the other day “We are the lucky ones.”
And finally...we have a new puppy! I didn’t want a puppy, I didn’t plan on getting a puppy. Here’s the quick-ish backstory:
My niece and her boyfriend decided to get a dog. They went to a local rescue and fell in love with a puppy that was 6 weeks old. Due to the age of the pup, this rescue was looking for fosters to take multiple puppies to care for until they were old enough to spay/neuter and then the foster family can adopt after that. She called me crying because she didn’t want to take two and have to give one back to the shelter in a couple weeks but they knew they couldn’t handle two puppies that would grow into 80lb dogs. I wasn’t ready for another dog after losing two in a year and a half. I hadn’t even been able to take my kids to the shelters like they asked because my heart hurt. And after our last adventure raising 2 puppies, we vowed never again to have a puppy. My husband got wind of this dilemma with my niece and so he was like “Of course we will take one.” And I was all skeptical but he got the kids on board and it all went downhill from there. I told my niece to try her best but after 2 days she was like yeah there is no way we can handle two of them. They picked the one they were keeping and brought the puppy up to meet my kids and told everyone that was their dog. The plan was that I was going to meet her the day we could finalize the adoption (1.5hrs from me without traffic) so I could pay my half of the fee, ect. And then she changed her mind and didn’t know how she would split them up at all and it became drama. So I just told her not to involve us because I wasn’t doing the back and forth with her decision or the dogs or having her be all upset over it or wanting the dog back at some point or what have you. So that happened and I just told my kids we weren’t getting the dog and I went on about life. I was a little pissed because she got my kids excited and brought the dog to meet my kids (which was HER idea, not mine!) but then I was out of town for a couple days for my sister’s birthday and got home and went right back to work. The week after I realized the kids (and my husband) were all still upset and bummed out so I told them we would look for a dog. Maybe (probably) not a puppy but an older dog or at least an older puppy closer to a year old. That my niece’s dog wasn’t the right one for us but that we would take our time and find the right one for us. That following weekend my husband took the kids to the shelters (I keep maintaining that he was free to go to shelters and adoption fairs and look and bring something home. I have trouble going in to shelters and wanting ALL the dogs) but they didn’t find anything. Our local shelters had low census (happily!) but told us to look at the websites because they are able to keep them updated. Thanks to petfinders “Pets available near you” feature, I wasn’t even looking for her, but I found her. I saw her face and I just knew she was ours. I put in an application late Saturday night, and we brought her home Monday evening. We have had her 4 weeks now and she is awesome, and perfect and just so smart. She came to us super polite already knowing how to sit without being prompted, and now she knows how to give paw and she learned lay down in a single day! Her name is Leia (as in Princess) and she’s definitely the one for us. I didn’t want a puppy, I wasn’t looking for a puppy, but there she was. And I am so glad we found her.
She is a lab mix and is definitely considered a large breed and will likely weight around 80lbs. She has grown a ton in the 4 weeks we have had her and gained over 11 lbs so far. We think she may be mixed with boxer and possibly german shepherd based on how she looks compared to internet pictures we have searched. I am considering doing one of those Wisdom dna panels to know for sure. The rescue said one of her litter mates that was black and white looked like a hound, and there was another one that was all white with some brown that looked more like ours. There were 7 of them all together but I only know about the ones that were all in the same foster home as ours. But she's way too big for any hound mix and doesn't seem to have hound traits at all so far. Litters can be fathered by different dogs so it definitely makes it interesting trying to figure it out.
It took a little under a week for my other dog to get used to her and for them to start playing together. Now they act like fools tearing through the house wrestling and stealing each other's food and its been SO good for. She was lonely without her sister and it will keep her young. (She is 7) My new pup was born and rescued from the same area in WV and estimated to be born around the same time of year, so they are almost exactly 7 years apart.
Here is the picture that made me fall in love with her:
and a couple others taken the night we brought her home:
This is the most recent pic I took the other night. It was late and she was SO sleepy from a busy day of learning new things.
the first night she decided the puppy wasn't going anywhere. 6 days in.
reluctant couch sharer.
a rare moment of stillness from them both.
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
If you knew...
you were going to die soon, what would you do? I mean, we are all going to die and most of us will probably not have advanced notice of impending death. But some of us will get sick and know the end is near. If that was you, what would you do? How would you write your last days?
I know this is morbid and taboo maybe even, but one of my oldest friends is facing that reality, and it has me thinking. She does not want a post-hummus funeral. She does not want her daughters (14 and 17) to be sad. Rather, she wants a “living funeral” where she says goodbye to everyone personally. I don’t know if I can think of anything sadder and more gut-wrenching, for everyone.
She’s probably stronger than me. She has walked though this journey and made it look so easy. She has stayed positive against all odds. And even now, stopping treatments and facing death, she is so graceful. I don’t think I could ever be that way.
I wonder what I would want in my last days. Probably to sit with my family and play every single board game on our shelf, to watch all the movies they want me to see that I don’t have time for right now, to just make damn sure they all know just how much I love them and how damn hard I fought to stay with them, and that I would give all my limbs and a kidney and any other organ I don’t even need if it meant more time with them. To make sure how much my kids know they deserve love and to seek it out and live their best lives because I will be watching them every single moment and will be there waiting for them on the other side. I don’t think I would want to share that time with many other people except my immediate family.
My heart breaks for her for all the moments she won’t be physically present for...the high school graduations, college acceptances and graduations, careers, marriage and babies maybe. And my heart breaks for her beautiful girls who won’t have their mom around for all of those things and for their first heartbreaks and job interviews and just all the life questions you need your mom for. My heart breaks for her mom, because no one should ever have to bury their own child. And my heart breaks for her husband, who I have known as long as I have know her, because of the widowed life he now has to navigate. Like any other Dad and husband I know, he wasn’t the coordinator of schedules and accounts and all the day to day of running a household. But also because they didn’t get nearly enough time together. My heart breaks for the world, because she is truly a light.
I don’t know how you possibly prepare those around you for the fact that your time on earth is drawing near. I don’t know how you tell your mom and your kids that there is nothing more doctors can do, and that you only have X amount of time left. I don’t know how you do that and have it not break your own heart. I don’t know how you do that and find a way to be grateful for the time you have had and not angry for the time you won’t have. And yet, here is my beautiful friend doing just that. And going above and beyond so she can personally say goodbye to all of us. But that’s who she is.
My heart breaks for myself as well.
I know this is morbid and taboo maybe even, but one of my oldest friends is facing that reality, and it has me thinking. She does not want a post-hummus funeral. She does not want her daughters (14 and 17) to be sad. Rather, she wants a “living funeral” where she says goodbye to everyone personally. I don’t know if I can think of anything sadder and more gut-wrenching, for everyone.
She’s probably stronger than me. She has walked though this journey and made it look so easy. She has stayed positive against all odds. And even now, stopping treatments and facing death, she is so graceful. I don’t think I could ever be that way.
I wonder what I would want in my last days. Probably to sit with my family and play every single board game on our shelf, to watch all the movies they want me to see that I don’t have time for right now, to just make damn sure they all know just how much I love them and how damn hard I fought to stay with them, and that I would give all my limbs and a kidney and any other organ I don’t even need if it meant more time with them. To make sure how much my kids know they deserve love and to seek it out and live their best lives because I will be watching them every single moment and will be there waiting for them on the other side. I don’t think I would want to share that time with many other people except my immediate family.
My heart breaks for her for all the moments she won’t be physically present for...the high school graduations, college acceptances and graduations, careers, marriage and babies maybe. And my heart breaks for her beautiful girls who won’t have their mom around for all of those things and for their first heartbreaks and job interviews and just all the life questions you need your mom for. My heart breaks for her mom, because no one should ever have to bury their own child. And my heart breaks for her husband, who I have known as long as I have know her, because of the widowed life he now has to navigate. Like any other Dad and husband I know, he wasn’t the coordinator of schedules and accounts and all the day to day of running a household. But also because they didn’t get nearly enough time together. My heart breaks for the world, because she is truly a light.
I don’t know how you possibly prepare those around you for the fact that your time on earth is drawing near. I don’t know how you tell your mom and your kids that there is nothing more doctors can do, and that you only have X amount of time left. I don’t know how you do that and have it not break your own heart. I don’t know how you do that and find a way to be grateful for the time you have had and not angry for the time you won’t have. And yet, here is my beautiful friend doing just that. And going above and beyond so she can personally say goodbye to all of us. But that’s who she is.
My heart breaks for myself as well.
Monday, February 25, 2019
Untitled
Last week I wrote about how a couple weeks ago my 14 year old daughter came to me to tell me that she is bisexual. It is something I am ok with so long it is something that she is okay with, and so right now it’s really a non-issue.
Although we are Catholic, I have a more progressive view on some issues, as is the Church now, really, especially being led by Pope Francis. But I have also has personal reasons to look at what I believe in regards to this because of some family members, so I have long known where I stood and what my thoughts are regarding this. But this post really isn’t about the religious aspect.
I have spent a lot of time thinking and reflecting on how I can talk to my daughter, like as a parent should we have a more in-depth conversation. I was trying to determine what I might need to address, and what I could say as some parental wisdom without making her sexuality as issue or make her feel weird in some way. I went to my older daughter to see if it was more just feelings at this point or she she had been sexually experimenting already, because there are very different conversations to have. The biggest thing I wanted to make sure of is that she didn’t feel broken somehow, or a weirdo or a freak or anything like that.
So I started to really think back to when I was a teen and my relationships before my husband. I have had relationships with girls, I have an attraction to women even to this day. Had I not met my husband when I did, I probably would have continued to date women as well. I just never classified myself as anything, and other then my friends who were around me back then, no one else (meaning my family) knew. Not because I hid it, but because I never felt the need to announce it or declare it, it was just something that was about me.
And I remembered that the group of us from high school, my close group of girl friends, used to say in the most loving way that I wasn’t “normal”. “Charlotte isn’t normal.” Not in a hateful way at all. Just in a funny joking way of classifying me, because I was always different and marched to my own beat and did my own thing, and had weirdo thoughts and liked weird music and really just went against every mainstream, normal thing everyone else is doing. I am still that person, I just don’t notice it as much because of the great big internet and lots of life experiences that we are all our own brand of weirdos really. Back then I just wasn’t afraid to push boundaries or social norms or have relationships because they felt right without having to announce it or label it. Maybe it was a little bit of the 90’s vibe, at least in the greater circle I was in....there was a lot of room to be yourself and not have to have a name for it, and I didn’t know anyone personally who felt tortured by it at all. And I ran around in many different social circles made up with very different people.
But searching for way to help my child, I had to take a look at myself first. And thanks to a couple of very good friends, I have been able to see that although I have been married to a man for almost 2 decades, I don’t exactly identify as straight...that without even realizing I was, I am a bisexual person, I would identify as queer. It’s rather ironic that it would take my daughter declaring her bisexuality for me to name mine. And, in fact, my husband has always told me he thought if we ever split up I would end up with a women...he would joke and tease me about it, but I guess he could see my bisexuality for what it is, as opposed to myself who never labeled it. To be clear...that doesn’t mean I wish I was with a woman now or anything...it just means that I am capable of being attracted to both sexes.
It actually explains a lot about me, in the way I think and feel and process the world around me. It actually goes way deeper than just superficially being attracted to different genders. It kind of explains a huge part of the reason why I have never felt like I truly fit in with anyone, why I have trouble fitting in and making friends, because it’s all encompassing.
The most ironic part is that when I told my oldest friends about this whole thing, and said to my husband that everything lately made me realize I was bisexual, everyone was like “yeah, duh, we have always known that. I can’t believe it took you this long to say it. Didn’t you know? Lol hahaha”
I guess I always knew. I just didn’t feel like there was any reason to say it. Until now.
Although we are Catholic, I have a more progressive view on some issues, as is the Church now, really, especially being led by Pope Francis. But I have also has personal reasons to look at what I believe in regards to this because of some family members, so I have long known where I stood and what my thoughts are regarding this. But this post really isn’t about the religious aspect.
I have spent a lot of time thinking and reflecting on how I can talk to my daughter, like as a parent should we have a more in-depth conversation. I was trying to determine what I might need to address, and what I could say as some parental wisdom without making her sexuality as issue or make her feel weird in some way. I went to my older daughter to see if it was more just feelings at this point or she she had been sexually experimenting already, because there are very different conversations to have. The biggest thing I wanted to make sure of is that she didn’t feel broken somehow, or a weirdo or a freak or anything like that.
So I started to really think back to when I was a teen and my relationships before my husband. I have had relationships with girls, I have an attraction to women even to this day. Had I not met my husband when I did, I probably would have continued to date women as well. I just never classified myself as anything, and other then my friends who were around me back then, no one else (meaning my family) knew. Not because I hid it, but because I never felt the need to announce it or declare it, it was just something that was about me.
And I remembered that the group of us from high school, my close group of girl friends, used to say in the most loving way that I wasn’t “normal”. “Charlotte isn’t normal.” Not in a hateful way at all. Just in a funny joking way of classifying me, because I was always different and marched to my own beat and did my own thing, and had weirdo thoughts and liked weird music and really just went against every mainstream, normal thing everyone else is doing. I am still that person, I just don’t notice it as much because of the great big internet and lots of life experiences that we are all our own brand of weirdos really. Back then I just wasn’t afraid to push boundaries or social norms or have relationships because they felt right without having to announce it or label it. Maybe it was a little bit of the 90’s vibe, at least in the greater circle I was in....there was a lot of room to be yourself and not have to have a name for it, and I didn’t know anyone personally who felt tortured by it at all. And I ran around in many different social circles made up with very different people.
But searching for way to help my child, I had to take a look at myself first. And thanks to a couple of very good friends, I have been able to see that although I have been married to a man for almost 2 decades, I don’t exactly identify as straight...that without even realizing I was, I am a bisexual person, I would identify as queer. It’s rather ironic that it would take my daughter declaring her bisexuality for me to name mine. And, in fact, my husband has always told me he thought if we ever split up I would end up with a women...he would joke and tease me about it, but I guess he could see my bisexuality for what it is, as opposed to myself who never labeled it. To be clear...that doesn’t mean I wish I was with a woman now or anything...it just means that I am capable of being attracted to both sexes.
It actually explains a lot about me, in the way I think and feel and process the world around me. It actually goes way deeper than just superficially being attracted to different genders. It kind of explains a huge part of the reason why I have never felt like I truly fit in with anyone, why I have trouble fitting in and making friends, because it’s all encompassing.
The most ironic part is that when I told my oldest friends about this whole thing, and said to my husband that everything lately made me realize I was bisexual, everyone was like “yeah, duh, we have always known that. I can’t believe it took you this long to say it. Didn’t you know? Lol hahaha”
I guess I always knew. I just didn’t feel like there was any reason to say it. Until now.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
broken
All this loss is really triggering something in me. Maybe it sounds odd to some people, but my dogs are like my kids. I love them and they are a huge part of our family. They are my buddies.
And this is soooooo stupid but I have baby fever. Like so, so badly. I don’t understand these feelings or why I am still having them. I wish to God they would just go away. It’s just so beyond ridiculous. Everyone I know is somehow neatly able to tick all that away and say “I am done” and quite literally be done with it. Is something broken in me that I am not capable (clearly) of doing that???
Loss of a pet is directly tied to my own pregnancy loss. The second time that happened, I ended up adopting 2 dogs, and one of them was the one that just passed away. And now I have this huge desire inside of me to nuture something small and tiny. As if my life needs something like a puppy, or hell even a new baby for that matter, but that’s what my heart is telling me it wants right now. Not at all that a dog and a baby are comparable...but they both fulfill the same need in a way.
I feel broken. Why can’t I function like every other person I know? Why do I have to let the dream give up on me, instead of giving up the dream? Why am I broken?
And this is soooooo stupid but I have baby fever. Like so, so badly. I don’t understand these feelings or why I am still having them. I wish to God they would just go away. It’s just so beyond ridiculous. Everyone I know is somehow neatly able to tick all that away and say “I am done” and quite literally be done with it. Is something broken in me that I am not capable (clearly) of doing that???
Loss of a pet is directly tied to my own pregnancy loss. The second time that happened, I ended up adopting 2 dogs, and one of them was the one that just passed away. And now I have this huge desire inside of me to nuture something small and tiny. As if my life needs something like a puppy, or hell even a new baby for that matter, but that’s what my heart is telling me it wants right now. Not at all that a dog and a baby are comparable...but they both fulfill the same need in a way.
I feel broken. Why can’t I function like every other person I know? Why do I have to let the dream give up on me, instead of giving up the dream? Why am I broken?
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
The mouse in the kitchen
Once upon a time we lived in a house that got invaded by mice due to some neighboring construction. We had tried everything under the sun imaginable and googleable, and nothing was working. All along my husband kept saying how we just needed to get a cat. I was always resistant to that because I am not at all a cat person, and we also have a child who is pretty allergic to them. We also had two dogs at this point, one of them being a German Shepard who was still a puppy.
After a while it became clear that we were losing this battle with the mice, so I gave in and we went to a local shelter and adopted a kitten. She was acting crazy, scaling the cage like Spider-Man, so my husband picked her. She was young and tiny, and I swear within the first week of having her she brought me her first mouse.
Because she was so tiny, our vet suggested keeping her separated from our German Shepard for a while to let them get used to each other, because even playing the Shepard could accidentally hurt her. So we kept her downstairs and kept the basement door shut, but they would play with each other under the door all the time. She is a very vocal cat and would always ask to be let up, and we would let her up from time to time to play, but it would get rowdy real quick and we wanted to prevent her from getting hurt.
It didn’t take long for us to stop seeing (live) mice anymore. This kitten was clearly intercepting them from the basement where they were finding their way in.
One day my son (who was probably 5 at the time) came to me and said “Mom, there is a mouse standing in the kitchen.”
“Buddy, mice don’t stand still. I don’t think so.”
He kept bugging me and repeating that there was a mouse standing in the kitchen. I finally got up to go see what he was talking about, thinking he had watched too much Tom and Jerry or something.
Well.
There in the kitchen was a mouse. I don’t think it was standing so much as it couldn’t move, but it was alive. On the other side of the door I hear the kitten meowing and swinging her paws underneath the door.
This smart little kitten found a mouse, maimed it, and shoved it under the door to us, so that we would find it and let her up to finish the job. She didn’t like the door being shut and wanted to come and go as she pleased. So after that, we left the door open, and got a gate so that she could get over it, but the dogs couldn’t get to her or her food or litter box.
Smart little kitten.
After a while it became clear that we were losing this battle with the mice, so I gave in and we went to a local shelter and adopted a kitten. She was acting crazy, scaling the cage like Spider-Man, so my husband picked her. She was young and tiny, and I swear within the first week of having her she brought me her first mouse.
Because she was so tiny, our vet suggested keeping her separated from our German Shepard for a while to let them get used to each other, because even playing the Shepard could accidentally hurt her. So we kept her downstairs and kept the basement door shut, but they would play with each other under the door all the time. She is a very vocal cat and would always ask to be let up, and we would let her up from time to time to play, but it would get rowdy real quick and we wanted to prevent her from getting hurt.
It didn’t take long for us to stop seeing (live) mice anymore. This kitten was clearly intercepting them from the basement where they were finding their way in.
One day my son (who was probably 5 at the time) came to me and said “Mom, there is a mouse standing in the kitchen.”
“Buddy, mice don’t stand still. I don’t think so.”
He kept bugging me and repeating that there was a mouse standing in the kitchen. I finally got up to go see what he was talking about, thinking he had watched too much Tom and Jerry or something.
Well.
There in the kitchen was a mouse. I don’t think it was standing so much as it couldn’t move, but it was alive. On the other side of the door I hear the kitten meowing and swinging her paws underneath the door.
This smart little kitten found a mouse, maimed it, and shoved it under the door to us, so that we would find it and let her up to finish the job. She didn’t like the door being shut and wanted to come and go as she pleased. So after that, we left the door open, and got a gate so that she could get over it, but the dogs couldn’t get to her or her food or litter box.
Smart little kitten.
Monday, February 18, 2019
Last week
Oh geeze. Last week was rough, you guys. I don’t even know.
The Friday before the weekend (a full week ago) one of my older kids came down sick with the dreaded stomach bug. That weekend, the little boys and I came down with a nasty cold. (Side note, this is what happens when the weather warms up for a day in the middle of winter and everyone who has been cooped up ends up at local playgrounds.) Early Monday morning my husband wakes me up to let me know he is now sick with the stomach bug. The weather was bad and icy so all the kids were off of school, and no one felt well so everyone was cranky. And I had no hope of getting some help since my husband was sick. My daughter got called in to work and needed a ride, and someone broke the wiper of my “new” van trying to clear the ice. Luckily it was on the passenger side so I could still drive and clear the windshield to see.
Tuesday was another day missed of school and another day of a house full of sickness. I found out some disturbing news about my grandfather (dad’s dad) we never knew, thanks to my brother who is doing family research to make a tree. Turns out he was a pimp for the mob who did time in San Quentin before my dad was conceived. No one knows if my dad knew these things, and there is no one alive left to ask.
Wednesday I had two more kids who started with the whole puking/stomach bug thing. By Thursday I had it and had to deal with it alone with 3 kids who were home with it as well. I got to take a nap Thursday evening. When I got up and came downstairs, still pretty sick, my younger daughter decided that was a great time to tell me she is bisexual. It came out of left field and wasn’t something even on my radar, so that surprised me. I just hugged her and told her I loved her and asked if she needed to talk about it, and she said no she was happy and ok. If I had felt better we would have had a more in-depth discussion, but for now that is that.
Friday morning my sister called to tell me my niece didn’t get in to the program she was trying to, and since my niece has been living up here and is with me a lot she asked if I could talk to her and try and help her figure out next steps for a career. I still wasn’t feeling really good, and the lasts of my kids to get sick was home with it as well. My friend called me very upset because her mom is battling cancer, and she is getting conflicting things from doctors and wanted advice and an ear to listen. My emotional reserves are running super low after this, and I wish I had someone to talk to as well. Friday night when we were trying to feed everyone who felt ok, the littlest boy puked all over the kitchen.
That night my husband wanted to keep all the sick boys in one room with him in case they had trouble overnight, so I got to sleep upstairs. (I usually sleep downstairs when I have to get up earky for work so I don’t wake everyone up with my alarm at 4am.) I slept well and woke up still feeling icky but I made it to work. By the time I got to work and clocked in my phone was going off with texts from my husband to call him, which is unusual, especially so early. My dog who had been sick but was being treated and better died in her sleep and he found her asleep on the couch. He buried her in the backyard. I came home to a very sad and upset house. My stomach still felt weird and I got more nauseous as the night went on. I ended up waking up in the middle of the night really sick again so I had to miss work. I slept half of yesterday and finally started feeling better late last night.
Today I decided to fix myself something good for breakfast and managed to drop my plate and shatter it all over the kitchen, so half of breakfast wasn’t salvageable.
It has to go up from here, right?!?
The Friday before the weekend (a full week ago) one of my older kids came down sick with the dreaded stomach bug. That weekend, the little boys and I came down with a nasty cold. (Side note, this is what happens when the weather warms up for a day in the middle of winter and everyone who has been cooped up ends up at local playgrounds.) Early Monday morning my husband wakes me up to let me know he is now sick with the stomach bug. The weather was bad and icy so all the kids were off of school, and no one felt well so everyone was cranky. And I had no hope of getting some help since my husband was sick. My daughter got called in to work and needed a ride, and someone broke the wiper of my “new” van trying to clear the ice. Luckily it was on the passenger side so I could still drive and clear the windshield to see.
Tuesday was another day missed of school and another day of a house full of sickness. I found out some disturbing news about my grandfather (dad’s dad) we never knew, thanks to my brother who is doing family research to make a tree. Turns out he was a pimp for the mob who did time in San Quentin before my dad was conceived. No one knows if my dad knew these things, and there is no one alive left to ask.
Wednesday I had two more kids who started with the whole puking/stomach bug thing. By Thursday I had it and had to deal with it alone with 3 kids who were home with it as well. I got to take a nap Thursday evening. When I got up and came downstairs, still pretty sick, my younger daughter decided that was a great time to tell me she is bisexual. It came out of left field and wasn’t something even on my radar, so that surprised me. I just hugged her and told her I loved her and asked if she needed to talk about it, and she said no she was happy and ok. If I had felt better we would have had a more in-depth discussion, but for now that is that.
Friday morning my sister called to tell me my niece didn’t get in to the program she was trying to, and since my niece has been living up here and is with me a lot she asked if I could talk to her and try and help her figure out next steps for a career. I still wasn’t feeling really good, and the lasts of my kids to get sick was home with it as well. My friend called me very upset because her mom is battling cancer, and she is getting conflicting things from doctors and wanted advice and an ear to listen. My emotional reserves are running super low after this, and I wish I had someone to talk to as well. Friday night when we were trying to feed everyone who felt ok, the littlest boy puked all over the kitchen.
That night my husband wanted to keep all the sick boys in one room with him in case they had trouble overnight, so I got to sleep upstairs. (I usually sleep downstairs when I have to get up earky for work so I don’t wake everyone up with my alarm at 4am.) I slept well and woke up still feeling icky but I made it to work. By the time I got to work and clocked in my phone was going off with texts from my husband to call him, which is unusual, especially so early. My dog who had been sick but was being treated and better died in her sleep and he found her asleep on the couch. He buried her in the backyard. I came home to a very sad and upset house. My stomach still felt weird and I got more nauseous as the night went on. I ended up waking up in the middle of the night really sick again so I had to miss work. I slept half of yesterday and finally started feeling better late last night.
Today I decided to fix myself something good for breakfast and managed to drop my plate and shatter it all over the kitchen, so half of breakfast wasn’t salvageable.
It has to go up from here, right?!?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)