Monday, December 28, 2009

Merry In-Between

It was a busy holiday. Lots of family with lots of roller coaster emotions.

Great highs, great big lows. My only living grandmother suffered a stroke a few months ago and is in a nursing facility. She is slowly regaining the movement of her right side. Her speech is slurred and she is eating baby food. She wept when she saw us, and especially when Radha held out a hand to her.

"It's part of the stroke---the process," my step-mother explained, repeating how the staff psychologists explained the weeping to them a few weeks ago.

Sitting there, half paralyzed, watching your family and life pass you by, unable to participate, hardly able to explain what the hell you need or want at any given moment, hell I would be weeping too. People often mutter that getting old---that kind of old when you are basically digressing back into a child---is the worst thing that can happen to you. I often wonder if it is.

I sat and watched my grandmother during these weepy episodes, and I could see her feel the frustration, the fear, the hopelessness, and then she would wipe her eyes, tell herself that it's ok, reassure herself that she could handle this, and she would reengage in the conversation.

It was exactly how I was in the hospital before Ronan was delivered.

If I have learned anything through these past couple of years (other than the fact that I am cut from the same cloth as my grandmother) is that many of the things that come our way, bad and worse, from our birth until our death, are survivable.

Wishing all of you beautiful survivors a wonderful new year.....

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


I read about the Duggar’s 19th child Josie being born at 25 weeks at a tiny 1 lb 6 oz last week, and I was filled with conflicting emotions...

I was angry that the media underplayed how serious the situation is. Like severe prematurity was just a small blip---no big deal. A little stay in the NICU and all will be magically better!!!

Never mind the 20% survival rate at this age. And never mind the 90% neurological issues within that 20% survival rate.

Then I thought a little more, and laughed bitterly because in the Duggar world, (where the only loss they had was an early miscarriage their first try out that resulted in the abandoning of all birth control whatsoever), this would probably, in fact, be magically better. And then I became pissed again because sometimes I feel like some people never really experience reality first hand--and witness how it can crap on other people. Repeatedly. I was chatting with my friend M, a doctor who trained in Pediatrics, about this situation, and I was bitching that my first try at motherhood I got dinged with Trisomy 18. Nineteen babies in and this is the first scary, shit experience that they face?!?

Which brought me back to my ranting about faith…. is it truly God who chooses the path, or is it really the luck of the draw? If you are on the argument side of God’s blessings to those who believe, I would be happy to point out the wonderful and faithful DBL mommies who prayed for their miracle at 25 weeks (or later), and only were allowed a precious few minutes or hours before (or none at all) before the Lord took their children away. Many their first child. Many their only child…..Not their 19th.

It is a bitter pill to swallow, and a tangled web I weave. As my faith is being held up with toothpicks during this time, I don’t want to succumb to the ugliness that points and compares lives and blessings. I don’t want to lament about how someone has it so easy and some have it so freakin’ bad. I don’t want to know why some women can have 18 children with no problems, and why some can only have 1, with a massive amount of help, only to lose them.

My heart is heavy enough as it is. I see little boys who are playing with trucks, who are running around, jumping and laughing. I look at my Christmas tree and see an ornament of remembrance, but no gifts for a 2 year old boy underneath….

I guess the point of this whole thing is that I just want my boy....

Monday, December 21, 2009

Monday, December 7, 2009


Haven't felt like writing much lately. It's the season, the weather, the inevitable...

I go from feeling blessed and so incredibly grateful to feeling pissy and worn-out.

Why does everything have to have a caveat? Is there such a thing as a moment where the hum of unfairness doesn't permeate into my present life? Will I truly be planning the Christmas card thinking "if only?" 10 years from now?

I want a reprieve. Can't I have one?

But then I feel like the worst fucking mother in the world for wanting one.....

It's so damn unfair.