Well, this is becoming less of a blog and more of a quarterly report. At the rate I'm going it's going to turn into an annual Christmas letter, so I'll just try to pick up a couple of months after I left off and see how that goes. It's late and I'm tired, so I'll just do an outline right now and flesh it out later (within the week, I promise).
Let's see...
--Finalized insurance settlements from accident. Feels icky, but at least it's done now.
--Decided to pursue suit against GM, against my better judgment but at urging of Jon, attorneys and people who know a great deal more about this than I do. That's the last I'll mention of this until if/when it's done with. It hasn't even come close to starting, anyway.
--Fired my therapist, after he told me the reason he doesn't like the Catholic high schools in this area was because of all the interracial dating, which he apparently doesn't "believe in" (?), because according to him the "races shouldn't mix". He didn't back down from this statement even after I told him that if everyone felt that way my father wouldn't exist, nor would my husband, nor would Hannah's best friend Brandon, just to name a very few. So I walked out. Still trying to figure out what to do next, and thinking I will probably report him anyway.
--Marked the passing of the 2nd anniversary of Hannah's death with a day-sponsorship tribute to her on our local public radio station (good liberals that we are) and a really nice stay at Sandy's house so as to be convenient to the rock the next morning. As it was last year, it was bone-chilling bitter cold, but despite that several friends turned out and it was well worth it.
--Celebrated our own Christmas at home, complete with tree, presents, church service (they actually had a sort of pageant, and Emily was an angel in it -- kind of blindsided because all I was told was that they would get to walk in and sing a song together. Stil, wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. My parents came for Christmas. That was not bad on the whole -- they behaved well -- but Dad's clearly starting on the Alzheimer's decline; Mom acts like a bossy six-year-old around him, and it was impossible to actually have a conversation. Emily enjoyed all of it mightily, got lots of nice gifts, can't wait to do it again next year. It was hard for Jon and me but I am glad we did it and I think we'll just continue to refine it until we find what works best for us.
--New Years' with Jon's sister Sarah, husband Andy, and their kids Phoebe (age 7, 3 months younger than Hannah) and Noah (age 4). I was afraid at first of how it would be to have Phoebe there since she and Hannah were close, not just in age but as playmates, and I hadn't seen them since the memorial service. It actually wasn't bad, though. Phoebe is not at all like she used to be -- she's now got some nice manners and a sense of humor, and she is really a sweet kid. Noah is a maniac but is at least good natured. Emily had a BALL with the cousins and it was hard on us all when they left; fortunately school has started again.
--Jon and I have started exercising at the Y a lot and it has made so many things so much better. Everything from sex to sleep to coping with stress. DUH, why did we let this go so long?
--I've done major purging and decluttering of house and closets and stuff, and am going to get some new stuff for the kitchen, living room, family room and computer room.
That's about it. I re-read The Handmaid's Tale at about the same time as I heard about a bill introduced in VA that basically forbids reproductive assistance technology to anyone but legally married women. Not a happy combination of events. This country and the "leaders" of the government are scaring the everliving FUCK out of me. I'm not nearly as opposed to the idea of emigrating as I once was. If anything comes up for Jon job-wise in Canada, the UK, Australia or some country where I'd have at least a fighting chance of scraping by linguistically (France, Spain, Mexico?) maybe we should just go for it. I'd be especially keen on the UK or Australia.
Thanks to Gretchen we've added a new TV addiction -- Arrested Development. It just got canceled but we will catch up on the DVDs as Gretchen buys them.
We may be acquiring Zoe's cats -- Eric and Schrodinger (I can't make the little umlaut thingy that's supposed to go over the "o" in "Schrodinger"). I don't know if I've posted in here about this but we had to have George put down sometime in November, or maybe early December. He was just plodding along as usual but we think he may have developed some kind of tumor or cancer; one day he just lost the ability to move and was clearly miserable. At age 15, you have to be prepared for some kind of problems like this in a male cat with health problems. I miss him; it was kind of weird for him not to be there. Other than a couple of books and CD's, we have had him longer than we've had anything else together; in fact I got him before we were even engaged. He was really our first child.
I know there's more, but I have to get some sleep. Anyway, I think those are the most important ones so far.
1.09.2006
11.11.2005
Stray bullets
Well, maybe it's just a function of the depression kind of creeping back, or the time of year, or whatever. But it seems like there have been some random triggers here and there.
A major one which took me entirely by surprise tonight was the last scene of Puccini's La Boheme. We went to see it performed tonight. A local performance, not entirely mediocre, and one of my favorite operas anyway. (I'm enough of a geek that I can actually use the plural of "opera" in that sentence. Yowza.) But the final scene, where Mimi is resting on the couch and she and Rodolfo have been left alone together and they share memories of their time together, brought back vividly the time when we saw Hannah in the funeral home, and were given some time to sit with her body. I remember talking to her and memories just flooding out, telling her how beautiful she was and how proud we always would be of her.
Anyway, I don't think I want to see that performed again.
A major one which took me entirely by surprise tonight was the last scene of Puccini's La Boheme. We went to see it performed tonight. A local performance, not entirely mediocre, and one of my favorite operas anyway. (I'm enough of a geek that I can actually use the plural of "opera" in that sentence. Yowza.) But the final scene, where Mimi is resting on the couch and she and Rodolfo have been left alone together and they share memories of their time together, brought back vividly the time when we saw Hannah in the funeral home, and were given some time to sit with her body. I remember talking to her and memories just flooding out, telling her how beautiful she was and how proud we always would be of her.
Anyway, I don't think I want to see that performed again.
11.09.2005
It's starting to hit me
that Christmas is approaching. Yes, I have a keen grasp of the obvious. Thank you for pointing that out.
We're going to have it at home this year. Emily is looking forward to it and getting excited about the whole thing. I am looking forward to giving her a nice holiday but on the other hand, I haven't done Christmas since 2002, and I think just a few minutes ago it hit me how hard it is going to be. I was posting on a parenting board (one I've been part of since I was about 3 weeks pg with Hannah) about upcoming holidays when it kind of took over.
I think I've been just thinking about individual components of it -- the presents one day, food another, decorating, etc. but the big picture, a family Christmas of our own but without Hannah, hadn't entered my mind. Or perhaps I was just trying very hard not to see it.
Damn. I have a feeling I've just fallen off this nice little plateau I had been coasting on for the past several weeks. Suddenly I feel very, very bad.
Good thing I see the shrink tomorrow.
We're going to have it at home this year. Emily is looking forward to it and getting excited about the whole thing. I am looking forward to giving her a nice holiday but on the other hand, I haven't done Christmas since 2002, and I think just a few minutes ago it hit me how hard it is going to be. I was posting on a parenting board (one I've been part of since I was about 3 weeks pg with Hannah) about upcoming holidays when it kind of took over.
I think I've been just thinking about individual components of it -- the presents one day, food another, decorating, etc. but the big picture, a family Christmas of our own but without Hannah, hadn't entered my mind. Or perhaps I was just trying very hard not to see it.
Damn. I have a feeling I've just fallen off this nice little plateau I had been coasting on for the past several weeks. Suddenly I feel very, very bad.
Good thing I see the shrink tomorrow.
10.10.2005
Who IS this person?
Well, things are quite different, as in: better.
Preschool is going well. Still a minute or so of drama/clinginess as we get there, and Mrs. J distracts her instantly and all is well from then on. She's made a friend in the class -- Hannah Elizabeth, of all the unbelievable things -- who apparently would go to Emily whenever she got whiny or upset and hug and pat her and say "It's OK". I know Hannah is an extremely common name for kids this age, although this is the first Hannah Elizabeth I've met besides our own Hannah. Whatever -- it may mean something, it just may be a complete random coincidence, but I get some comfort from it regardless.
I seem to have completely thrown off the lethargy/rage/active depression, at least for now. Not sure how much is the new med, how much of it is stuff finally settling down school-wise. I'm like June Cleaver on meth -- the house is clean, stuff is getting taken care of (just minor shit like replacing burned-out bulbs, cleaning out closets, etc.), we are living less squalorously than we were before. Jon has always been one to just do whatever needs to be done, but in his own (disorganized) way. Now without anything being said, he's following through more on the way I do things (more organized) and it's great. Even Emily is getting into it -- and perhaps preschool helps; there's more structure and organization, and she's getting good about putting stuff away and not strewing everything she owns over every square inch of the house.
Maybe it's just a temporary respite from the depression, but it is very refreshing. It feels a little weird, too.
In fact it's almost boring, because I don't have much to say here. I'm a bit wiped out physically from all the work, and it's too much effort to even think of anything else to talk about. Maybe my mind or emotions really are taking a break from everything.
Blah. I will write more if anything occurs to me. Click some of the links if you want something more interesting to read.
Preschool is going well. Still a minute or so of drama/clinginess as we get there, and Mrs. J distracts her instantly and all is well from then on. She's made a friend in the class -- Hannah Elizabeth, of all the unbelievable things -- who apparently would go to Emily whenever she got whiny or upset and hug and pat her and say "It's OK". I know Hannah is an extremely common name for kids this age, although this is the first Hannah Elizabeth I've met besides our own Hannah. Whatever -- it may mean something, it just may be a complete random coincidence, but I get some comfort from it regardless.
I seem to have completely thrown off the lethargy/rage/active depression, at least for now. Not sure how much is the new med, how much of it is stuff finally settling down school-wise. I'm like June Cleaver on meth -- the house is clean, stuff is getting taken care of (just minor shit like replacing burned-out bulbs, cleaning out closets, etc.), we are living less squalorously than we were before. Jon has always been one to just do whatever needs to be done, but in his own (disorganized) way. Now without anything being said, he's following through more on the way I do things (more organized) and it's great. Even Emily is getting into it -- and perhaps preschool helps; there's more structure and organization, and she's getting good about putting stuff away and not strewing everything she owns over every square inch of the house.
Maybe it's just a temporary respite from the depression, but it is very refreshing. It feels a little weird, too.
In fact it's almost boring, because I don't have much to say here. I'm a bit wiped out physically from all the work, and it's too much effort to even think of anything else to talk about. Maybe my mind or emotions really are taking a break from everything.
Blah. I will write more if anything occurs to me. Click some of the links if you want something more interesting to read.
10.03.2005
Things continue to improve
at least with preschool. This morning she was kind of whiny and "I don't want to go to school" and "I want to stay home" and "I want to cry for two minutes".
For some reason, I decided at the last minute that we should get a different kind of snack (she was supposed to bring cereal bars, since she was the snack person today, and I had brought some hippy-dippy organic ones which we like but which I feared most of her classmates would not). Going to the store distracted her and got her all excited, and focused her attention on her role as "snack person" which helped.
So we got to school and there was a bit of very minor intermittent whining. We were a bit early so sat in the hall and looked over the Scholastic Books order forms, went potty (not in the hall, obviously), chatted with a couple of other moms and kids.
She went right into the classroom once Mrs. J opened the door. I walked in with her, gave her a kiss, she started up with the "I want mommy" but it lasted about two seconds, with no actual crying. Mrs. J immediately redirected her to some new activity and apparently it was perfect from that moment on. I arrived a bit early for pick-up and she was completely into the activity, laughing, having a blast.
She ran out with a huge grin, all excited. "Mommy! I didn't cry today!" So I made a big fuss over how great she did, took her out for ice cream, and we proceeded to have a really terrific day together.
It was ODD -- I did a lot of cleaning and throwing out all the junk mail and random chores, and she was absolutely wonderful about just going about her business, entertaining herself (playing with dolls, other toys, reading books). So completely unlike her usual self.
This was after a full-on screaming tantrum last night before bedtime because she didn't want to pick up a set of toys she'd been playing with (which are now in time-out).
I am beginning to think she has actually hit some new development level -- she seems a bit more articulate, cognitively a bit further along than she was just a week ago, just plain different somehow. She'd been an absolute beast the last few days before this.
Just now, I remembered that both Hannah and Emily had periods of being absolutely horrible, bratty and out-of-control (at least for them) right before they'd hit some new stage of development. Even as babies, it seemed like they were extra difficult right before they did something like sitting up, walking, learning new words. I suppose there is a chance that we hit a difficult period that coincided with the big change of preschool starting?
I still am kicking myself for starting her in Montessori, since obviously she has a totally different attitude about this new school and there is a chance she might not have gotten this clingy separation-anxiety regressive behavior going if she had simply STARTED at her current school. Argh.
It was starting to remind me of colic -- I remember getting bitterly resentful, angry and almost contemptuous of people whose babies actually slept some of the time and didn't need to be nursed literally 24/7. I couldn't see straight, I was so envious. I have felt the same way recently about three-year-olds who separate easily. It's amazing how fast I lose perspective.
For some reason, I decided at the last minute that we should get a different kind of snack (she was supposed to bring cereal bars, since she was the snack person today, and I had brought some hippy-dippy organic ones which we like but which I feared most of her classmates would not). Going to the store distracted her and got her all excited, and focused her attention on her role as "snack person" which helped.
So we got to school and there was a bit of very minor intermittent whining. We were a bit early so sat in the hall and looked over the Scholastic Books order forms, went potty (not in the hall, obviously), chatted with a couple of other moms and kids.
She went right into the classroom once Mrs. J opened the door. I walked in with her, gave her a kiss, she started up with the "I want mommy" but it lasted about two seconds, with no actual crying. Mrs. J immediately redirected her to some new activity and apparently it was perfect from that moment on. I arrived a bit early for pick-up and she was completely into the activity, laughing, having a blast.
She ran out with a huge grin, all excited. "Mommy! I didn't cry today!" So I made a big fuss over how great she did, took her out for ice cream, and we proceeded to have a really terrific day together.
It was ODD -- I did a lot of cleaning and throwing out all the junk mail and random chores, and she was absolutely wonderful about just going about her business, entertaining herself (playing with dolls, other toys, reading books). So completely unlike her usual self.
This was after a full-on screaming tantrum last night before bedtime because she didn't want to pick up a set of toys she'd been playing with (which are now in time-out).
I am beginning to think she has actually hit some new development level -- she seems a bit more articulate, cognitively a bit further along than she was just a week ago, just plain different somehow. She'd been an absolute beast the last few days before this.
Just now, I remembered that both Hannah and Emily had periods of being absolutely horrible, bratty and out-of-control (at least for them) right before they'd hit some new stage of development. Even as babies, it seemed like they were extra difficult right before they did something like sitting up, walking, learning new words. I suppose there is a chance that we hit a difficult period that coincided with the big change of preschool starting?
I still am kicking myself for starting her in Montessori, since obviously she has a totally different attitude about this new school and there is a chance she might not have gotten this clingy separation-anxiety regressive behavior going if she had simply STARTED at her current school. Argh.
It was starting to remind me of colic -- I remember getting bitterly resentful, angry and almost contemptuous of people whose babies actually slept some of the time and didn't need to be nursed literally 24/7. I couldn't see straight, I was so envious. I have felt the same way recently about three-year-olds who separate easily. It's amazing how fast I lose perspective.
9.29.2005
In other news
$850 later, we now have a new electrical system in our house. It seems that the outside connection box was completely corroded on one side (moisture leakage) with the result that one of the two sockets was actually burned and melted, and the other side was probably a few hours from failing as well. Not only that, but someone who owned the house in years past obviously had a new breaker box put in but kept the old line, splicing it together very crudely, so it was just a matter of time before the whole thing blew. Of course, we also had a new breaker box installed in the basement.
However, it is nice not to have extension cords snaked all over the kitchen (refrigerator and microwave) and Emily's room (nightlight, fan, CD player), and I also particularly enjoy turning lights and appliances on and off and not having the house brown out.
And preschool is going well. Wednesday I couldn't stay; there was some crying on the way in and for about 10 minutes after class started, then the rest of the day was happy and fun, with her running out smiling, bouncing up and down and excited when school was out. We have a winner, thank God.
Of course, after getting the electrical problem fixed, and coming to the realization that the school problem was essentially fixed, I thought to myself earlier today, "God, I wonder what's next?" Sure enough, up pops the e-mail about Christopher Stacy.
So I wonder what's next after THAT? I don't think I can take much more.
But like I said, it's. always. something. ALways.
However, it is nice not to have extension cords snaked all over the kitchen (refrigerator and microwave) and Emily's room (nightlight, fan, CD player), and I also particularly enjoy turning lights and appliances on and off and not having the house brown out.
And preschool is going well. Wednesday I couldn't stay; there was some crying on the way in and for about 10 minutes after class started, then the rest of the day was happy and fun, with her running out smiling, bouncing up and down and excited when school was out. We have a winner, thank God.
Of course, after getting the electrical problem fixed, and coming to the realization that the school problem was essentially fixed, I thought to myself earlier today, "God, I wonder what's next?" Sure enough, up pops the e-mail about Christopher Stacy.
So I wonder what's next after THAT? I don't think I can take much more.
But like I said, it's. always. something. ALways.
I'm stunned
Not in the Sybermom sense, but in the gobsmacked/astonished/taken aback sense.
I've been communicating with a mediator, who specializes in what are called "restorative justice" conferences. Basically, the idea is that one of these days, we (or maybe just I) would sit down with Christopher Stacy, the young man who rear-ended us in the accident, and get a chance to talk face to face. As difficult as it would be, I want to do this because I need him to tell me, person to person, that he is sorry about what he did and for him to take complete responsibility for it. I also want to tell him a couple of things, in particular that I want him to remember this always and to honor Hannah's memory by not hiding this from anyone, by using his experience hopefully to educate others, perhaps including his own children, about what can happen when you drive recklessly or negligently.
Anyway, the mediator just e-mailed me. We've been trying to get something set up for this fall. It seems that Christopher's grandfather (who for the most part raised him) just died this week; that Christopher's father, a mechanic with Northwest Airlines, lost his job and they're on the verge of losing their home, and that Christopher and his girlfriend (I assume it's the same girlfriend he had two years ago) are going to have a baby next month. Oh, and that Christopher himself was laid off over a year ago and hasn't been able to find a permanent job since.
So the mediator has said that if I want to go ahead with the conference now, it's my decision and everyone will cooperate, but that under the circumstances, his concern is that Christopher will be unable to fully focus and participate on the issues at hand. He thinks we should wait six months to a year. He did make the point that after becoming a father and having the time to bond with his own child, Christopher might have a better understanding of the magnitude of our loss, and perhaps be better able to own what he did.
I am stunned. For some reason, the idea that he's going to have a child really hurts.
Why does he get to have one when ours was taken away? When he isn't capable of supporting the child or taking proper care of the child; when he hasn't even bothered to make the commitment of marriage to the child's mother; when he can't even get his own life in order? Why was our child, who was wanted, brought into an established and intact relationship, who was given every advantage and cared for with complete dedication and deliberation, not able to stay with us but he can just go pop out a kid with a girlfriend?
WHY????
It isn't fair. It just is not fucking fair at all. I don't even know if we will have another child. I want Hannah back, and I want Emily to have another sibling, but I'm still emotionally not ready to have a child right now; I'm getting older and it's getting riskier and more difficult even if I were ready; in fact I don't even know if it's possible because we still don't know if the vasectomy reversal was successful. We have everything in the world to give to a child, but we are too careful and too caring to just willy-nilly bring one into the world until we KNOW we can do it with our whole heart. There is every indication, in fact, that we won't have another child at all because we aren't going to do it if we can't do it properly.
Meanwhile, he has nothing going for him, and he just gets to start a family, just like that?
I am sorry that he lost his grandfather. I am also sorry about his and his father's employment woes. But he does NOT deserve to become a father right now. Jon is the one who should be the father of two alive and well daughters.
I've been communicating with a mediator, who specializes in what are called "restorative justice" conferences. Basically, the idea is that one of these days, we (or maybe just I) would sit down with Christopher Stacy, the young man who rear-ended us in the accident, and get a chance to talk face to face. As difficult as it would be, I want to do this because I need him to tell me, person to person, that he is sorry about what he did and for him to take complete responsibility for it. I also want to tell him a couple of things, in particular that I want him to remember this always and to honor Hannah's memory by not hiding this from anyone, by using his experience hopefully to educate others, perhaps including his own children, about what can happen when you drive recklessly or negligently.
Anyway, the mediator just e-mailed me. We've been trying to get something set up for this fall. It seems that Christopher's grandfather (who for the most part raised him) just died this week; that Christopher's father, a mechanic with Northwest Airlines, lost his job and they're on the verge of losing their home, and that Christopher and his girlfriend (I assume it's the same girlfriend he had two years ago) are going to have a baby next month. Oh, and that Christopher himself was laid off over a year ago and hasn't been able to find a permanent job since.
So the mediator has said that if I want to go ahead with the conference now, it's my decision and everyone will cooperate, but that under the circumstances, his concern is that Christopher will be unable to fully focus and participate on the issues at hand. He thinks we should wait six months to a year. He did make the point that after becoming a father and having the time to bond with his own child, Christopher might have a better understanding of the magnitude of our loss, and perhaps be better able to own what he did.
I am stunned. For some reason, the idea that he's going to have a child really hurts.
Why does he get to have one when ours was taken away? When he isn't capable of supporting the child or taking proper care of the child; when he hasn't even bothered to make the commitment of marriage to the child's mother; when he can't even get his own life in order? Why was our child, who was wanted, brought into an established and intact relationship, who was given every advantage and cared for with complete dedication and deliberation, not able to stay with us but he can just go pop out a kid with a girlfriend?
WHY????
It isn't fair. It just is not fucking fair at all. I don't even know if we will have another child. I want Hannah back, and I want Emily to have another sibling, but I'm still emotionally not ready to have a child right now; I'm getting older and it's getting riskier and more difficult even if I were ready; in fact I don't even know if it's possible because we still don't know if the vasectomy reversal was successful. We have everything in the world to give to a child, but we are too careful and too caring to just willy-nilly bring one into the world until we KNOW we can do it with our whole heart. There is every indication, in fact, that we won't have another child at all because we aren't going to do it if we can't do it properly.
Meanwhile, he has nothing going for him, and he just gets to start a family, just like that?
I am sorry that he lost his grandfather. I am also sorry about his and his father's employment woes. But he does NOT deserve to become a father right now. Jon is the one who should be the father of two alive and well daughters.
9.27.2005
Cautiously optimistic
It seems my plan to put her into a more laid-back, play-based preschool might just work. Emily is now in a different preschool -- the more traditional kind, with classes grouped by age (3's, 4's), only 2x/week for 3's, more play-based, much smaller class size, more group/directed activity. Her first day was Monday. Despite the teacher not really wanting me to stay (I like this teacher and I do feel that she respects my point of view, but she insists that in her 20 years of experience as a teacher, it is better for the parent NOT to stay), I got the opportunity because the mom who was going to be there and help with the baking project had to bail, so of course I very sweetly offered to pitch in instead. She needed the help, so she had to let me stay. Emily did great for the hour I spent there -- she didn't cling to me at all, but jumped right in, participated, interacted with the teacher, like she'd been going to school all her life.
The teacher sent me to wash up the baking stuff and suggested I use that as my exit. This was one hour into the class. Of course, the second I walked out, she started crying and screaming. I went and quickly washed up all the stuff, then parked myself in the hall (out of sight/sound) and waited. It took about 20 minutes for the full-on crying to stop and another 10 for the intermittent crying to stop, and then for the next hour she had a *blast* again. Totally participating, laughing with the other kids, joining in conversations. When class ended she came running out, with a huge smile and jumping up and down. She was so proud of herself! I made a big deal out of it too, and took her to the mall to have pizza with her friend (Gretchen's son Andrew), and also surprised her with a (dollar store) toy as a surprise treat for doing well at school. This morning she asked to go back to school -- in fact she didn't really want to leave yesterday -- and was glad when I told her that we would go again tomorrow.
I can't believe how great I feel about this.
So anyway, Gretchen and I hung out the rest of the afternoon while the kids played, and celebrated in our usual way -- eating popcorn, reading trashy mags (People, Us, and In Touch), drinking pop, and vegetating in total silence. This is also how we mourn or express rage and frustration with life. It seems to work well for all occasions. Anyway, I had worked my way through all three magazines and was sitting, burping contentedly on the couch, and chose that moment to remark to Gretchen how perfect life was at that moment: we were free to vegetate and read trash and ingest empty carbs at will, the kids were playing, entertained, safe and occupied, and life was great.
Two minutes later Emily and Andrew came up from the basement. Emily has, in her hand, a sippy cup which at first appears to be filled with some kind of dark chocolaty milk substance, but upon further examination, it was probably EXTREMELY fermented old soymilk. I'm talking probably close to a year old, reeking of ammonia, disgusting. We asked her if she'd had a sip and she said that she had. So we immediately called Poison Control and described it. They said if she'd had a large sip of it she likely would have vomited immediately and certainly been distressed, and she wasn't, so we're guessing that she probably only had a drop, if that, and immediately stopped.
If I had a way to put in a .wav file of the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme song, I'd insert it here.
It was still a great day, though.
Now, if only the power to half of our house's electrical circuits would stop intermittently cutting itself off. Two electricians later, we still haven't figured out what's wrong.
It's. Always. Something.
The teacher sent me to wash up the baking stuff and suggested I use that as my exit. This was one hour into the class. Of course, the second I walked out, she started crying and screaming. I went and quickly washed up all the stuff, then parked myself in the hall (out of sight/sound) and waited. It took about 20 minutes for the full-on crying to stop and another 10 for the intermittent crying to stop, and then for the next hour she had a *blast* again. Totally participating, laughing with the other kids, joining in conversations. When class ended she came running out, with a huge smile and jumping up and down. She was so proud of herself! I made a big deal out of it too, and took her to the mall to have pizza with her friend (Gretchen's son Andrew), and also surprised her with a (dollar store) toy as a surprise treat for doing well at school. This morning she asked to go back to school -- in fact she didn't really want to leave yesterday -- and was glad when I told her that we would go again tomorrow.
I can't believe how great I feel about this.
So anyway, Gretchen and I hung out the rest of the afternoon while the kids played, and celebrated in our usual way -- eating popcorn, reading trashy mags (People, Us, and In Touch), drinking pop, and vegetating in total silence. This is also how we mourn or express rage and frustration with life. It seems to work well for all occasions. Anyway, I had worked my way through all three magazines and was sitting, burping contentedly on the couch, and chose that moment to remark to Gretchen how perfect life was at that moment: we were free to vegetate and read trash and ingest empty carbs at will, the kids were playing, entertained, safe and occupied, and life was great.
Two minutes later Emily and Andrew came up from the basement. Emily has, in her hand, a sippy cup which at first appears to be filled with some kind of dark chocolaty milk substance, but upon further examination, it was probably EXTREMELY fermented old soymilk. I'm talking probably close to a year old, reeking of ammonia, disgusting. We asked her if she'd had a sip and she said that she had. So we immediately called Poison Control and described it. They said if she'd had a large sip of it she likely would have vomited immediately and certainly been distressed, and she wasn't, so we're guessing that she probably only had a drop, if that, and immediately stopped.
If I had a way to put in a .wav file of the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme song, I'd insert it here.
It was still a great day, though.
Now, if only the power to half of our house's electrical circuits would stop intermittently cutting itself off. Two electricians later, we still haven't figured out what's wrong.
It's. Always. Something.
9.22.2005
Things are settling down
So, let's see...
1. Preschool went from bad to worse. Emily cried more every day, until this past Monday when she started crying when I turned the corner to go down the street to the school -- up til then she'd at least been happy when she got there. A lot of long boring conversations with her teacher later, we decide to pull her out, although her teacher feels like we should try again in Nov. or Dec.
I desperately want her to have the academic advantages of the Montessori curriculum but don't think the class structure really works for Emily's personality, and I have some deep problems with the parent board of the school (long boring story which I'll spare you).
So instead, my plan is to put her into a more "traditional" preschool (lots of group activity, circle time, more play-based, and only 2 days/week, with a smaller class), see how that goes, and then maybe, but probably not, reconsider Montessori next fall when she's 4. Getting her out of there was a huge relief.
2. I was able to switch meds -- I'm now on Lexapro -- and the difference is incredible. Not that I'm exactly happy, but I'm no longer constantly angry/irritated/impatient/wanting to die. I am patient with Emily and I can cope with life in general, which frees up energy to deal with the stuff that needs to be dealt with in other areas.
3. All 3 of us have had colds -- Emily first, then me, and now Jon.
4. Had bloodwork re-checked, as followup from June. My cholesterol is HIGHER, and apparently my thyroid is on the outs. What the fuck? How did I become middle aged all of a sudden? I really don't understand the cholesterol thing especially, because we've made a really good effort with our diet, but apparently not good enough. I haven't been exercising, since about mid-August, and I've been completely stressed/depressed/burned out, which I can't help but think has something to do with why my body is starting to function less well.
The thyroid thing is weird, too. I do know women tend to have problems with this more than men, especially after having children, but I wonder what effects diet, stress, exercise or other factors might have in it as well?
I hate that all my medical care is so fragmented -- the primary care doc doesn't talk to the midwife doesn't talk to the therapist, although the therapist at least works with the psychiatrist.
Also, when I was given the bad news about my cholesterol, they recommended "dietary changes". I asked them if they could be more specific and they said, "Well, there's Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, etc."
I pointed out that in theory I could eat my allotted calories/points/whatever all in hamburgers, bacon or cheese, which would still cause me to lose weight if I kept within my allotment but would probably kill me rapidly in terms of cardiovascular health.
I asked if they could possibly refer me to a nutritionist -- I may be a foodie, and well-versed in nutrition, but what I need help with is the practical aspect of putting together a new way of eating, factoring in what I like, what's good vs. bad for me, and my diminished energy and time for cooking.
I'm sure you can guess -- insurance doesn't pay for a nutritionist. Perish the thought! However, if I do have a heart attack and become a candidate for quintuple bypass, they'll cough it right up (after some amount of paperwork and phone calls). Never mind that several sessions of nutritional counseling do not even begin to approach a fraction of the cost of a bypass operation and acute cardiac care. What the fuck? How fucked up is that?
5. I'm very slowly, but surely, going through all of our file cabinets/boxes of papers/junk and sorting things out, and finding some cool stuff -- cartoons and sketches of mine, other art projects, stuff from the past (my hospital invoice from delivering Hannah, for example). It's fun and therapeutic, but my time is limited right now since all my morning free time got hosed with the Montessori debacle, and I'm not sure yet how the other school will work out.
Not much else interesting (not that the preceding was actually interesting) to report. My sinuses are doing terrible things right now, so I'll sign off.
1. Preschool went from bad to worse. Emily cried more every day, until this past Monday when she started crying when I turned the corner to go down the street to the school -- up til then she'd at least been happy when she got there. A lot of long boring conversations with her teacher later, we decide to pull her out, although her teacher feels like we should try again in Nov. or Dec.
I desperately want her to have the academic advantages of the Montessori curriculum but don't think the class structure really works for Emily's personality, and I have some deep problems with the parent board of the school (long boring story which I'll spare you).
So instead, my plan is to put her into a more "traditional" preschool (lots of group activity, circle time, more play-based, and only 2 days/week, with a smaller class), see how that goes, and then maybe, but probably not, reconsider Montessori next fall when she's 4. Getting her out of there was a huge relief.
2. I was able to switch meds -- I'm now on Lexapro -- and the difference is incredible. Not that I'm exactly happy, but I'm no longer constantly angry/irritated/impatient/wanting to die. I am patient with Emily and I can cope with life in general, which frees up energy to deal with the stuff that needs to be dealt with in other areas.
3. All 3 of us have had colds -- Emily first, then me, and now Jon.
4. Had bloodwork re-checked, as followup from June. My cholesterol is HIGHER, and apparently my thyroid is on the outs. What the fuck? How did I become middle aged all of a sudden? I really don't understand the cholesterol thing especially, because we've made a really good effort with our diet, but apparently not good enough. I haven't been exercising, since about mid-August, and I've been completely stressed/depressed/burned out, which I can't help but think has something to do with why my body is starting to function less well.
The thyroid thing is weird, too. I do know women tend to have problems with this more than men, especially after having children, but I wonder what effects diet, stress, exercise or other factors might have in it as well?
I hate that all my medical care is so fragmented -- the primary care doc doesn't talk to the midwife doesn't talk to the therapist, although the therapist at least works with the psychiatrist.
Also, when I was given the bad news about my cholesterol, they recommended "dietary changes". I asked them if they could be more specific and they said, "Well, there's Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, etc."
I pointed out that in theory I could eat my allotted calories/points/whatever all in hamburgers, bacon or cheese, which would still cause me to lose weight if I kept within my allotment but would probably kill me rapidly in terms of cardiovascular health.
I asked if they could possibly refer me to a nutritionist -- I may be a foodie, and well-versed in nutrition, but what I need help with is the practical aspect of putting together a new way of eating, factoring in what I like, what's good vs. bad for me, and my diminished energy and time for cooking.
I'm sure you can guess -- insurance doesn't pay for a nutritionist. Perish the thought! However, if I do have a heart attack and become a candidate for quintuple bypass, they'll cough it right up (after some amount of paperwork and phone calls). Never mind that several sessions of nutritional counseling do not even begin to approach a fraction of the cost of a bypass operation and acute cardiac care. What the fuck? How fucked up is that?
5. I'm very slowly, but surely, going through all of our file cabinets/boxes of papers/junk and sorting things out, and finding some cool stuff -- cartoons and sketches of mine, other art projects, stuff from the past (my hospital invoice from delivering Hannah, for example). It's fun and therapeutic, but my time is limited right now since all my morning free time got hosed with the Montessori debacle, and I'm not sure yet how the other school will work out.
Not much else interesting (not that the preceding was actually interesting) to report. My sinuses are doing terrible things right now, so I'll sign off.
9.12.2005
Just when you thought I was through... yes, even MORE of the same
Well, I'm still pretty much in the same place I was last time. I hate this. It's hampering my ability to parent. It's disrupting my marriage and our family life -- not very dramatically, but it is taking its toll. Jon is far too good of a person and too strong to give up on me, at least so far, but I hate that he is having to go through this with me, when he has grief of his own, work stress, whatever else he has, and then on top of it all he has to come home and deal with me and my inability to cope. This is not good.
It is getting to the point where the impact of this bog of grief/depression/non-functioning is having almost as much of an impact as a physical disability or perhaps a chemical dependency would. And I really, really don't know how to fix it. I don't know if it's the meds, or if it would be worse without them. I almost feel like I need a new brain. I even wonder about shock therapy. I realize that's probably unrealistic and unnecessary, but the idea of getting an actual jolt of electricity almost sounds like it would help -- like maybe that's what I need, something to actually shake up and help resettle whatever is going wrong with me.
I need to find out if my therapist (nice sixty-ish white-haired guy whose appearance, conversation and manner don't scream "COMPUTER LITERATE", but I could be wrong) has e-mail. The idea of giving him access to this is a great one. I can't manage to share what I need to share in one fifty-minute hour each week or two.
Man, this SUCKS. I'm so, so tired of this.
It is getting to the point where the impact of this bog of grief/depression/non-functioning is having almost as much of an impact as a physical disability or perhaps a chemical dependency would. And I really, really don't know how to fix it. I don't know if it's the meds, or if it would be worse without them. I almost feel like I need a new brain. I even wonder about shock therapy. I realize that's probably unrealistic and unnecessary, but the idea of getting an actual jolt of electricity almost sounds like it would help -- like maybe that's what I need, something to actually shake up and help resettle whatever is going wrong with me.
I need to find out if my therapist (nice sixty-ish white-haired guy whose appearance, conversation and manner don't scream "COMPUTER LITERATE", but I could be wrong) has e-mail. The idea of giving him access to this is a great one. I can't manage to share what I need to share in one fifty-minute hour each week or two.
Man, this SUCKS. I'm so, so tired of this.
9.08.2005
A bit more of the same
The sadness is really hitting me hard. I think in a way that's better than just being enraged and frustrated with everything all the time, though. I believe that is part of how I block the sadness because I'm so afraid of actually feeling it.
This afternoon I found all the unlabeled videos, nearly all of which, I'm sure, have some amount of Hannah video footage. Mostly between ages 6 months to 2 years old; we seemed to stop taking so many videos then and did more stills.
I do have some great stuff that other friends took -- one in particular I will always treasure, and I think I will show it to Emily when the time is right. The day I went into labor with Emily, my friend Pam came over to pick up Hannah so she could spend the day there, giving me a break and playing with Pam's daughter Laura (preschool buddy). I didn't realize I was actually in labor until a bit after Hannah left.
So after Jon comes back home, and we decide to go to the hospital, I call Pam to let her know the situation. She then got out her video camera and while filming, told Hannah the news that we were going to the hospital so that the baby could come out. Hannah was absolutely overjoyed and excited -- jumping up and down and yelling about how her baby sister was coming. I will always be so grateful to Pam for having the foresight to videotape that moment.
So I watched a few of the baby videos today. Oddly enough, they didn't make me as sad (after I'd already had a crying jag in the a.m.). Instead, they just made me feel happy, as though somehow she wasn't completely lost to us, and reliving a lot of the memories was fun too. Her first birthday party is a very special one, not just for the occasion, but for old friends who were there at the party, people we haven't seen for a long time and are missed.
I also felt a completely egotistical swell of pride at seeing how absolutely gorgeous she was as a baby, and how smiley and happy her disposition was. She was like the kind of baby you see in baby shampoo commercials or in movies -- just completely adorable. From the first minute of her life until the very end, I was so completely proud of her (even when she drove me batshit crazy). Everyone was so taken with her, was charmed by how she always smiled at and tried to interact with everyone she saw, how much joy she seemed to be always filled with. That never changed. She had so many friends, and wanted to make friends with everyone she ever met. Everybody who ever taught her or coached her or babysat her adored her. I remember the first time I had a conference with Laura W., her preschool teacher. After talking about the concepts and activities that the kids were doing, and telling me how well Hannah was settling in and how much fun she was having, she said: "Well, whatever you're doing with her, just keep doing it -- she is a joy to have in my class."
She had her moments, her annoying habits, the occasional tantrum or bratty spell, and was quite proficient at whining when she wanted to be, but looking back, she really was an easy child (after the colic stopped). I just wonder why a kid like that had to be taken away so early. She would have made some kind of difference in the world. I don't even know how to express it without it sounding like a eulogy.
That makes me feel even worse about my difficulty coping with Emily. It's like in a way I find no joy in parenting any more, and it isn't because of Emily at all -- it's because I am not well. I love Emily, as I loved Hannah, with every fiber of my being and then some. I have happy times with her every day, we do have a very strong bond -- I even miss her at night sometimes, when she's in her room and we're in ours, and I am proud of her too. But I do not feel the same joy I felt with Hannah, or the same excitement about her future, or the same savoring of even the small moments with her.
Am I, on some level, angry because she isn't Hannah? I haven't wanted to even consider that but I can't account for my overall feelings any other way. I have to repeat here that it isn't actually Emily I have the problem with -- but the loss of Hannah and the emptiness that her absence has created in me. I am just not a whole person any more, and I don't know how to be, or if it's even possible. It's almost like the grief is just now setting in, which seems crazy considering it's been 21 months since the accident.
But I don't want to ruin Emily's life or her emotional well-being with my grief or anger or depression. I want her to know that she is just as important, that we love her as much and are proud of her, and that she doesn't have to do anything to make up for Hannah's absence -- we just want her and love her as she is. But then WHY can't I actually COPE with the simple everyday reality of Emily? It's like there's some kind of noise or wall or something that prevents me from tapping into the love and joy I have with her and just LIVING it, constantly and always. It comes and goes in jagged irregular patches, and sometimes there is far too much nothingness in between those patches of joy.
Maybe I don't let myself feel my love for her as much because there is too much at stake -- I absolutely cannot go through anything like this again and for some reason, on some level, I'm afraid to be close to her in case something happens.
??? I don't know. I know this is one for the therapist, but I have a hard time opening up about this stuff even to him. I can kind of talk about it with Jon, but it's difficult, because he's also under a crushing emotional load and we both need to be at least minimally functional.
This afternoon I found all the unlabeled videos, nearly all of which, I'm sure, have some amount of Hannah video footage. Mostly between ages 6 months to 2 years old; we seemed to stop taking so many videos then and did more stills.
I do have some great stuff that other friends took -- one in particular I will always treasure, and I think I will show it to Emily when the time is right. The day I went into labor with Emily, my friend Pam came over to pick up Hannah so she could spend the day there, giving me a break and playing with Pam's daughter Laura (preschool buddy). I didn't realize I was actually in labor until a bit after Hannah left.
So after Jon comes back home, and we decide to go to the hospital, I call Pam to let her know the situation. She then got out her video camera and while filming, told Hannah the news that we were going to the hospital so that the baby could come out. Hannah was absolutely overjoyed and excited -- jumping up and down and yelling about how her baby sister was coming. I will always be so grateful to Pam for having the foresight to videotape that moment.
So I watched a few of the baby videos today. Oddly enough, they didn't make me as sad (after I'd already had a crying jag in the a.m.). Instead, they just made me feel happy, as though somehow she wasn't completely lost to us, and reliving a lot of the memories was fun too. Her first birthday party is a very special one, not just for the occasion, but for old friends who were there at the party, people we haven't seen for a long time and are missed.
I also felt a completely egotistical swell of pride at seeing how absolutely gorgeous she was as a baby, and how smiley and happy her disposition was. She was like the kind of baby you see in baby shampoo commercials or in movies -- just completely adorable. From the first minute of her life until the very end, I was so completely proud of her (even when she drove me batshit crazy). Everyone was so taken with her, was charmed by how she always smiled at and tried to interact with everyone she saw, how much joy she seemed to be always filled with. That never changed. She had so many friends, and wanted to make friends with everyone she ever met. Everybody who ever taught her or coached her or babysat her adored her. I remember the first time I had a conference with Laura W., her preschool teacher. After talking about the concepts and activities that the kids were doing, and telling me how well Hannah was settling in and how much fun she was having, she said: "Well, whatever you're doing with her, just keep doing it -- she is a joy to have in my class."
She had her moments, her annoying habits, the occasional tantrum or bratty spell, and was quite proficient at whining when she wanted to be, but looking back, she really was an easy child (after the colic stopped). I just wonder why a kid like that had to be taken away so early. She would have made some kind of difference in the world. I don't even know how to express it without it sounding like a eulogy.
That makes me feel even worse about my difficulty coping with Emily. It's like in a way I find no joy in parenting any more, and it isn't because of Emily at all -- it's because I am not well. I love Emily, as I loved Hannah, with every fiber of my being and then some. I have happy times with her every day, we do have a very strong bond -- I even miss her at night sometimes, when she's in her room and we're in ours, and I am proud of her too. But I do not feel the same joy I felt with Hannah, or the same excitement about her future, or the same savoring of even the small moments with her.
Am I, on some level, angry because she isn't Hannah? I haven't wanted to even consider that but I can't account for my overall feelings any other way. I have to repeat here that it isn't actually Emily I have the problem with -- but the loss of Hannah and the emptiness that her absence has created in me. I am just not a whole person any more, and I don't know how to be, or if it's even possible. It's almost like the grief is just now setting in, which seems crazy considering it's been 21 months since the accident.
But I don't want to ruin Emily's life or her emotional well-being with my grief or anger or depression. I want her to know that she is just as important, that we love her as much and are proud of her, and that she doesn't have to do anything to make up for Hannah's absence -- we just want her and love her as she is. But then WHY can't I actually COPE with the simple everyday reality of Emily? It's like there's some kind of noise or wall or something that prevents me from tapping into the love and joy I have with her and just LIVING it, constantly and always. It comes and goes in jagged irregular patches, and sometimes there is far too much nothingness in between those patches of joy.
Maybe I don't let myself feel my love for her as much because there is too much at stake -- I absolutely cannot go through anything like this again and for some reason, on some level, I'm afraid to be close to her in case something happens.
??? I don't know. I know this is one for the therapist, but I have a hard time opening up about this stuff even to him. I can kind of talk about it with Jon, but it's difficult, because he's also under a crushing emotional load and we both need to be at least minimally functional.
9.06.2005
In which the title of this blog becomes even more apt...
It's unconscionably self-centered and vile of me to be dwelling on this when there is a lot more genuine suffering and need out there that I could somehow help with. Things could be so much worse. I can be miserable in a comfortable home in a nice neighborhood with the benefits of: electricity, running water, food, internet and phone access, functional cars, loving and supportive husband, healthy and beautiful daughter, reasonable financial security and resources; extended family (at least figuratively speaking), good friends. I'm not sitting in a shelter in my own feces, dehydrated, starving, wondering where my child and husband are, injured and traumatized from watching my own home become submerged and destroyed.
But:
I have been feeling so utterly paralyzed/angry/depressed/non-functional, and I think it's the cumulative effect of the following: this time of year (school/halloween/approaching holidays); PMS; the hurricane; that I barely have any adult contact at all except for Jon in the evenings (while Emily does her damnedest to make sure we are unable to converse or accomplish any tasks without her interference); that my one really good friend here is going through some stress of her own and I don't want to lean on her any more than necessary; that I absolutely cannot even BE a parent any more -- all I do is yell and snap and threaten (as in "your toys are going in the trash if you don't pick them up"). She watches far too much TV and plays too many computer games, doesn't get nearly enough active outside time, because I just can't be bothered.
I think what I need is not just downtime for myself, but to finally start doing things that I'm actually interested in. Maybe find an art class or two -- I haven't drawn or painted in over 10 years, although I do graphic design work now and then. Start looking for a cheap-ish 2nd hand piano and start playing again -- took lessons for 10 yrs as a child/teen and really miss it. Something that intellectually challenges me, taps into my creativity and talent (I do have some!), that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with being a parent or even a wife.
It's like I have no energy or motivation of any kind. I'm in one of those moods where even taking a shower seems like a huge effort and just too pointless to even consider. Despite being a foodie and an absolutely fantastic cook (no false modesty!), I have no interest in preparing meals. Granted, cooking every night and having to try to make sure your picky-ish three-year-old gets adequately fed does take its toll. But it's the kind of thing where nothing even sounds good -- looking at recipes, etc. it all sounds just kind of unappealing and tasteless. I do eat a bit more crap lately than I need to, but I think some of it is a function of the PMS.
Even reading, movies, etc. -- things that are never-fail remedies -- just fall short. Nothing I'm reading is interesting, nothing *sounds* interesting or intriguing. Most movies I get bored with halfway through; even if they're excellent I seem to have trouble concentrating and following a story.
I have no idea how to pull myself out of this. I have a fabulous therapist who is a great help, but I feel like it's at the point now where it would be a lot more helpful if he would just move in with us, or stay permanently connected by two-way radio or something. I'm on meds (Wellbutrin) but I think it's either the wrong dose or the wrong med -- it seemed to help for a while and now it doesn't at all.
I do want to do a permanent memorial of some kind, for Hannah -- like a website (is that permanent?!). What I wish I could do first is just get myself ORGANIZED -- just dig out from under the mounds of papers, files, old clothes, just plain CRAP that is littering up my house. I'd give anything to be on the Clean Sweep or Mission Organization shows; that's pretty much exactly what I need right now.
But:
I have been feeling so utterly paralyzed/angry/depressed/non-functional, and I think it's the cumulative effect of the following: this time of year (school/halloween/approaching holidays); PMS; the hurricane; that I barely have any adult contact at all except for Jon in the evenings (while Emily does her damnedest to make sure we are unable to converse or accomplish any tasks without her interference); that my one really good friend here is going through some stress of her own and I don't want to lean on her any more than necessary; that I absolutely cannot even BE a parent any more -- all I do is yell and snap and threaten (as in "your toys are going in the trash if you don't pick them up"). She watches far too much TV and plays too many computer games, doesn't get nearly enough active outside time, because I just can't be bothered.
I think what I need is not just downtime for myself, but to finally start doing things that I'm actually interested in. Maybe find an art class or two -- I haven't drawn or painted in over 10 years, although I do graphic design work now and then. Start looking for a cheap-ish 2nd hand piano and start playing again -- took lessons for 10 yrs as a child/teen and really miss it. Something that intellectually challenges me, taps into my creativity and talent (I do have some!), that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with being a parent or even a wife.
It's like I have no energy or motivation of any kind. I'm in one of those moods where even taking a shower seems like a huge effort and just too pointless to even consider. Despite being a foodie and an absolutely fantastic cook (no false modesty!), I have no interest in preparing meals. Granted, cooking every night and having to try to make sure your picky-ish three-year-old gets adequately fed does take its toll. But it's the kind of thing where nothing even sounds good -- looking at recipes, etc. it all sounds just kind of unappealing and tasteless. I do eat a bit more crap lately than I need to, but I think some of it is a function of the PMS.
Even reading, movies, etc. -- things that are never-fail remedies -- just fall short. Nothing I'm reading is interesting, nothing *sounds* interesting or intriguing. Most movies I get bored with halfway through; even if they're excellent I seem to have trouble concentrating and following a story.
I have no idea how to pull myself out of this. I have a fabulous therapist who is a great help, but I feel like it's at the point now where it would be a lot more helpful if he would just move in with us, or stay permanently connected by two-way radio or something. I'm on meds (Wellbutrin) but I think it's either the wrong dose or the wrong med -- it seemed to help for a while and now it doesn't at all.
I do want to do a permanent memorial of some kind, for Hannah -- like a website (is that permanent?!). What I wish I could do first is just get myself ORGANIZED -- just dig out from under the mounds of papers, files, old clothes, just plain CRAP that is littering up my house. I'd give anything to be on the Clean Sweep or Mission Organization shows; that's pretty much exactly what I need right now.
8.31.2005
We have liftoff
Well, she has officially been launched into a new stage of life. It went well. She walked right into her classroom with her teachers; she got the teachers I specifically wanted her to have; she apparently did great and came out happy, told me all about stuff they learned about (mostly just orienting them to the room, where the bathroom is, what some of the materials are for, where they keep their backpacks/etc.
I took her out for a celebration lunch (Boston Market -- what can I say, she's 3...) and some ice cream. She then took a 2-hour nap, the first one in a while. She woke up, we made pumpkin bread, then played outside until Jon got home. Chatted with some neighbors, quick dinner, played some more and bedtime.
She's like a different kid.
I think this is exactly what she has been needing, desperately. You could just see her feeling bigger and older, being completely captivated by something new and fun.
And now I feel even sadder because it brings back so many memories of Hannah starting preschool, and because now Emily really isn't a baby or toddler any more like she was when Hannah was still here. I can't even pretend that Hannah's just temporarily gone. Too much time has passed, too visibly and concretely.
It was also brought to the forefront because I met with Emily's teachers for a bit after class was over and told them about the accident, Hannah's death, and Emily's and my injuries. I just wanted them to be aware of it from the very beginning so that if Emily talked about it or other issues came up about topics like family members, or safety, or who knows what, that they wouldn't be taken by surprise and they'd have an idea of how to handle it with the other kids and with Emily. The principal already knows, I talked to her the other day.
On the whole I'm glad that we've gotten to this stage. I think both Emily and I were ready for a change, and I have a very comfortable, confident feeling about all of this -- I believe she'll thrive at this school, and we'll each have some time to pursue our own interests and growth, and the time we have once she's home from school will be better because we'll each have had some space and respite.
But it's still sad, too.
It could always be worse, though.
My god. Those poor souls left in the wake of Katrina's destruction. I have no words at all. All I can do is be very glad that we're safe and alive and together, and find some way to help, even if it's pretty insignificant in the big picture. I know that I can't even begin to imagine or understand what they're going through.
Still, and I know this is way out of line and presumptuous to even think it: something about seeing the magnitude of the disaster and starting to realize how long it will take before anything is even close to livable, let alone normal, reminds me of when I first realized Hannah was dead. It was complete chaos. How could we wrap our minds around something like this? And how could we live with it? That's why I clung to some kind of fantasy that somehow it would be undone, that she would be brought back or just some miracle would happen, because it was simply unimaginable that it was real and permanent.
I do know that if she were here she'd want to do something to help the survivors, especially the children. While I understand completely that I'm biased, I think it's safe to say that she had a capacity for compassion and empathy that was a bit beyond what I'd imagined a five-year-old was capable of. The time that her friend Maddie's mother died, for instance. Or even when we read The Lorax and she became upset because a new shopping center was being built near our neighborhood (for which several wooded acres were cleared and leveled) and cutting the trees might destroy everything around us.
Never mind. I can only imagine how I'd be rolling my eyes if anyone else I knew wrote something like this about their kid; how delusional can a besotted parent be? People who didn't know her personally will just have to take my word for it. Or not.
I took her out for a celebration lunch (Boston Market -- what can I say, she's 3...) and some ice cream. She then took a 2-hour nap, the first one in a while. She woke up, we made pumpkin bread, then played outside until Jon got home. Chatted with some neighbors, quick dinner, played some more and bedtime.
She's like a different kid.
I think this is exactly what she has been needing, desperately. You could just see her feeling bigger and older, being completely captivated by something new and fun.
And now I feel even sadder because it brings back so many memories of Hannah starting preschool, and because now Emily really isn't a baby or toddler any more like she was when Hannah was still here. I can't even pretend that Hannah's just temporarily gone. Too much time has passed, too visibly and concretely.
It was also brought to the forefront because I met with Emily's teachers for a bit after class was over and told them about the accident, Hannah's death, and Emily's and my injuries. I just wanted them to be aware of it from the very beginning so that if Emily talked about it or other issues came up about topics like family members, or safety, or who knows what, that they wouldn't be taken by surprise and they'd have an idea of how to handle it with the other kids and with Emily. The principal already knows, I talked to her the other day.
On the whole I'm glad that we've gotten to this stage. I think both Emily and I were ready for a change, and I have a very comfortable, confident feeling about all of this -- I believe she'll thrive at this school, and we'll each have some time to pursue our own interests and growth, and the time we have once she's home from school will be better because we'll each have had some space and respite.
But it's still sad, too.
It could always be worse, though.
My god. Those poor souls left in the wake of Katrina's destruction. I have no words at all. All I can do is be very glad that we're safe and alive and together, and find some way to help, even if it's pretty insignificant in the big picture. I know that I can't even begin to imagine or understand what they're going through.
Still, and I know this is way out of line and presumptuous to even think it: something about seeing the magnitude of the disaster and starting to realize how long it will take before anything is even close to livable, let alone normal, reminds me of when I first realized Hannah was dead. It was complete chaos. How could we wrap our minds around something like this? And how could we live with it? That's why I clung to some kind of fantasy that somehow it would be undone, that she would be brought back or just some miracle would happen, because it was simply unimaginable that it was real and permanent.
I do know that if she were here she'd want to do something to help the survivors, especially the children. While I understand completely that I'm biased, I think it's safe to say that she had a capacity for compassion and empathy that was a bit beyond what I'd imagined a five-year-old was capable of. The time that her friend Maddie's mother died, for instance. Or even when we read The Lorax and she became upset because a new shopping center was being built near our neighborhood (for which several wooded acres were cleared and leveled) and cutting the trees might destroy everything around us.
Never mind. I can only imagine how I'd be rolling my eyes if anyone else I knew wrote something like this about their kid; how delusional can a besotted parent be? People who didn't know her personally will just have to take my word for it. Or not.
8.30.2005
School days
Well, the YSU strike(s) is settled, just in time for classes starting yesterday, so Jon is back at work, his job is not in jeopardy, and we can get back to normal on that front. It was a hard week, let me tell you. Both Jon and I are suddenly experiencing what we think are physiological panic attacks -- random attacks of nausea/shortness of breath, difficulty sleeping. We just panicked because him losing his job was really the last thing we needed. I know it's not reasonable, but I just feel like we deserve a pass of some kind. The last two years have been HELL and I think we need a break.
And... Emily's first day of preschool is tomorrow. It's not a "real" day -- just the three-year-olds are coming in for a couple of hours to their classroom(s) while the parents are in the other room getting their indoctrination -- orienting them to school schedule/routines, signing up for committees, propaganda about the fundraiser, that sort of thing.
Emily's a little nervous -- she has random episodes of misbehaving, where she will do something like suddenly bolt away from me in a store or grab stuff on the shelf (she never does this usually), or decide to throw a fit when we remind her to wash her hands after going potty. That kind of stuff. Also she's intermittently clingy, in between being adamant about doing all kinds of stuff "by myself" (shampooing hair, etc.).
I hope she settles in soon. As desperate as she is for the company of other kids, and as bored as I'm beginning to realize she is just being at home, I can't imagine it'll be too hard. Her favorite babysitter's mother teaches the adolescent class at the school, and so she knows that Sophy's mom is there and that seems to please her. She is also jazzed about her new backpack (thanks Denise) and the "inside" shoes we bought. (They wear slippers or inside shoes while inside and change to regular street shoes when they go out -- keeps the floors a lot cleaner, which I like.)
I am feeling so torn about this. I'm burned out beyond anything I could have imagined. I NEED some time to myself on a fairly regular basis. I love being home with her but am getting so frustrated with it at the same time. And yet, the idea of her not being here for a few hours each day freaks me right out.
I think perhaps one reason I've gotten to this point of burnout is because without realizing it, I've been hypervigilant about her safety and well-being. I was always a borderline "hover" mom, but with Hannah, apart from her being my first (and therefore my being more nervous), it was easier to let go if I knew she was comfortable and happy.
Hannah's first day of preschool went something like this: We pulled into the parking lot; she unstrapped her car seat and opened the door almost before I could get around to her side of the car; she jumped out and grabbed my hand and RAN to the school; once we were at the classroom door she dropped my hand, RACED inside, and made a beeline for one of the painting easels, saying over her shoulder, "Bye Mommy, you can go now." That pretty much set the tone for all of preschool and even kindergarten, which I thought would be a bigger transition for her. She took it right in stride, though.
I felt very mildly misty while walking (being pulled by) her into school, but seeing how incredibly excited and happy she was, I very quickly became comfortable with it and by the time I got back to the car, was salivating to get myself over to the bookstore and camp out with an iced coffee and People. It was a great, great school year.
But since losing Hannah I think I've been extremely OVERprotective of Emily, at least physically. I still make her hold my hand inside the mall, in the library, wherever. If she runs ahead of me even five feet I panic and bark at her to get back to my side. At the park it's a little easier because the tot playground is enclosed and you can pretty much see every part of it from every bench. But lately she's wanted to go to the "big kid" part of the park and I can barely handle that -- I feel like I have to go through every single piece of equipment with her because I cannot let her out of my sight, and preferably reach as well. I freak out if she looks like she might fall off a couch or bed or anything else; I am very picky about who can watch her; it goes on.
I know that sounds somewhat normal for the parent of a three-year-old, but what isn't normal is the constant panic I feel whenever we're anywhere other than my house, or the house of a trusted friend or family member -- like I have to be in CONSTANT surveillance. I dread taking her anywhere else unless I *know* she will hold my hand (she doesn't always want to and it's a battle) or if she's willing to go in the stroller, which she now is if she knows it's going to be a horrifically long walk. I don't let her so much as stand out on the front porch even if I'm right inside the front door -- if I have to run in and get something I forgot, she comes in too, even if she remains in my sight the whole time she's outside. I think the sense of panic and alarm I constantly feel is what's taking the stuffing out of me.
It has taken a while for me to figure this out. I was protective of Hannah, and in some ways was more uptight when she was really small, because I was brand-new at this. But I didn't feel this constant fear, this tightness in my chest and stomach (sadly, my stomach only feels tight from the inside, so it hasn't affected my appearance for the better). It is just that in a way the stakes are even higher -- if something happens to Emily or we lose her somehow, then I really can't survive. Life would literally be over.
I know that if we had another child, it would help in some ways -- Emily would have someone else around in her general age group; it would diffuse the intensity of our focus on her; it would give us more of a sense of our family being complete. But I'm not ready to do this and don't know if I'll ever be. I think right now I can't make an informed, objective decision (well, not that anybody ever makes an informed objective decision to have kids -- it isn't about that), but maybe after she's gotten used to school and I feel a little less stressed, I can give it some more thought.
Also Emily starting school really makes Hannah's absence so much more obvious and painful. Even seeing the Halloween candy that's starting to creep into the stores makes me sad.
And... Emily's first day of preschool is tomorrow. It's not a "real" day -- just the three-year-olds are coming in for a couple of hours to their classroom(s) while the parents are in the other room getting their indoctrination -- orienting them to school schedule/routines, signing up for committees, propaganda about the fundraiser, that sort of thing.
Emily's a little nervous -- she has random episodes of misbehaving, where she will do something like suddenly bolt away from me in a store or grab stuff on the shelf (she never does this usually), or decide to throw a fit when we remind her to wash her hands after going potty. That kind of stuff. Also she's intermittently clingy, in between being adamant about doing all kinds of stuff "by myself" (shampooing hair, etc.).
I hope she settles in soon. As desperate as she is for the company of other kids, and as bored as I'm beginning to realize she is just being at home, I can't imagine it'll be too hard. Her favorite babysitter's mother teaches the adolescent class at the school, and so she knows that Sophy's mom is there and that seems to please her. She is also jazzed about her new backpack (thanks Denise) and the "inside" shoes we bought. (They wear slippers or inside shoes while inside and change to regular street shoes when they go out -- keeps the floors a lot cleaner, which I like.)
I am feeling so torn about this. I'm burned out beyond anything I could have imagined. I NEED some time to myself on a fairly regular basis. I love being home with her but am getting so frustrated with it at the same time. And yet, the idea of her not being here for a few hours each day freaks me right out.
I think perhaps one reason I've gotten to this point of burnout is because without realizing it, I've been hypervigilant about her safety and well-being. I was always a borderline "hover" mom, but with Hannah, apart from her being my first (and therefore my being more nervous), it was easier to let go if I knew she was comfortable and happy.
Hannah's first day of preschool went something like this: We pulled into the parking lot; she unstrapped her car seat and opened the door almost before I could get around to her side of the car; she jumped out and grabbed my hand and RAN to the school; once we were at the classroom door she dropped my hand, RACED inside, and made a beeline for one of the painting easels, saying over her shoulder, "Bye Mommy, you can go now." That pretty much set the tone for all of preschool and even kindergarten, which I thought would be a bigger transition for her. She took it right in stride, though.
I felt very mildly misty while walking (being pulled by) her into school, but seeing how incredibly excited and happy she was, I very quickly became comfortable with it and by the time I got back to the car, was salivating to get myself over to the bookstore and camp out with an iced coffee and People. It was a great, great school year.
But since losing Hannah I think I've been extremely OVERprotective of Emily, at least physically. I still make her hold my hand inside the mall, in the library, wherever. If she runs ahead of me even five feet I panic and bark at her to get back to my side. At the park it's a little easier because the tot playground is enclosed and you can pretty much see every part of it from every bench. But lately she's wanted to go to the "big kid" part of the park and I can barely handle that -- I feel like I have to go through every single piece of equipment with her because I cannot let her out of my sight, and preferably reach as well. I freak out if she looks like she might fall off a couch or bed or anything else; I am very picky about who can watch her; it goes on.
I know that sounds somewhat normal for the parent of a three-year-old, but what isn't normal is the constant panic I feel whenever we're anywhere other than my house, or the house of a trusted friend or family member -- like I have to be in CONSTANT surveillance. I dread taking her anywhere else unless I *know* she will hold my hand (she doesn't always want to and it's a battle) or if she's willing to go in the stroller, which she now is if she knows it's going to be a horrifically long walk. I don't let her so much as stand out on the front porch even if I'm right inside the front door -- if I have to run in and get something I forgot, she comes in too, even if she remains in my sight the whole time she's outside. I think the sense of panic and alarm I constantly feel is what's taking the stuffing out of me.
It has taken a while for me to figure this out. I was protective of Hannah, and in some ways was more uptight when she was really small, because I was brand-new at this. But I didn't feel this constant fear, this tightness in my chest and stomach (sadly, my stomach only feels tight from the inside, so it hasn't affected my appearance for the better). It is just that in a way the stakes are even higher -- if something happens to Emily or we lose her somehow, then I really can't survive. Life would literally be over.
I know that if we had another child, it would help in some ways -- Emily would have someone else around in her general age group; it would diffuse the intensity of our focus on her; it would give us more of a sense of our family being complete. But I'm not ready to do this and don't know if I'll ever be. I think right now I can't make an informed, objective decision (well, not that anybody ever makes an informed objective decision to have kids -- it isn't about that), but maybe after she's gotten used to school and I feel a little less stressed, I can give it some more thought.
Also Emily starting school really makes Hannah's absence so much more obvious and painful. Even seeing the Halloween candy that's starting to creep into the stores makes me sad.
8.24.2005
I just don't know HOW you do it!
The title of this may come across as somewhat snarky, but it isn't meant to be. It struck me that so many people (almost everyone I've ever known or met who knew about Hannah's death) have said to me in various ways over the last 20 months, that they just don't know how we do it -- having this incredible heartbreak, how do we manage to get up every day and live our lives?
I know that before this happened to me I was absolutely astounded that anyone could go on with life in any kind of everyday fashion after a loss of this magnitude. In fact, I still think that when I meet people who have had losses like ours or even greater.
One reason why we do get through every day despite this loss is that we do have so much else in our lives, good AND bad, that needs our energy and focus and love (or disgust in the case of Jon's employer!). The majority of this is Emily -- and I absolutely cannot imagine how we would be doing if for some reason we had either lost her, too, or just never had her. That is the only reason that I am sitting here now posting this. Without her we simply wouldn't be here, one way or another.
That's part of why it feels so bad to be having so much trouble coping with her -- she really is a gift, and I believe she is why we're alive and functional today as a family, and yet all I feel is resentful, inconvenienced, frustrated and bored. I love her desperately but right now I just don't like being a stay-at-home mother to a three-year-old.
Some of this is grief and depression, some of it may well be just plain burnout -- I've been doing this for over seven years now -- and I also miss my work. Not the being an employee part (let's just say Dilbert cartoons eerily parallelled most of my corporate work days), but I loved the work I did -- graphic design -- and want to find some way to get back into it without having to be away from Emily more than I need to.
I do know I'm beyond fortunate to even BE in a position where I'm bored and frustrated being a stay-at-home parent. I think of single mom friends I have, and realize it could be SO different and so much harder; that this is what I chose, and I need to find a way to make it work better for me AND my family.
And just in case this isn't complicated and self-pitying enough, get this: I feel slightly panicky at her starting preschool, even though I've counted down the SECONDS on bad days. It's going to be weird having three hours to myself (more or less) every weekday morning. I do find that it's when I *do* have complete "me" downtime that the sadness hits.
I have all kinds of things I want to do with that time -- exercise (stuff I like, not boring classes or anything), catch up on stuff around the house, work on a couple of freelance (emphasis on FREE) design projects, just hang out at the bookstore drinking foofy coffee drinks and reading People while my brain shuts down for a bit. But it sounds kind of empty anyway.
I know that before this happened to me I was absolutely astounded that anyone could go on with life in any kind of everyday fashion after a loss of this magnitude. In fact, I still think that when I meet people who have had losses like ours or even greater.
One reason why we do get through every day despite this loss is that we do have so much else in our lives, good AND bad, that needs our energy and focus and love (or disgust in the case of Jon's employer!). The majority of this is Emily -- and I absolutely cannot imagine how we would be doing if for some reason we had either lost her, too, or just never had her. That is the only reason that I am sitting here now posting this. Without her we simply wouldn't be here, one way or another.
That's part of why it feels so bad to be having so much trouble coping with her -- she really is a gift, and I believe she is why we're alive and functional today as a family, and yet all I feel is resentful, inconvenienced, frustrated and bored. I love her desperately but right now I just don't like being a stay-at-home mother to a three-year-old.
Some of this is grief and depression, some of it may well be just plain burnout -- I've been doing this for over seven years now -- and I also miss my work. Not the being an employee part (let's just say Dilbert cartoons eerily parallelled most of my corporate work days), but I loved the work I did -- graphic design -- and want to find some way to get back into it without having to be away from Emily more than I need to.
I do know I'm beyond fortunate to even BE in a position where I'm bored and frustrated being a stay-at-home parent. I think of single mom friends I have, and realize it could be SO different and so much harder; that this is what I chose, and I need to find a way to make it work better for me AND my family.
And just in case this isn't complicated and self-pitying enough, get this: I feel slightly panicky at her starting preschool, even though I've counted down the SECONDS on bad days. It's going to be weird having three hours to myself (more or less) every weekday morning. I do find that it's when I *do* have complete "me" downtime that the sadness hits.
I have all kinds of things I want to do with that time -- exercise (stuff I like, not boring classes or anything), catch up on stuff around the house, work on a couple of freelance (emphasis on FREE) design projects, just hang out at the bookstore drinking foofy coffee drinks and reading People while my brain shuts down for a bit. But it sounds kind of empty anyway.
8.22.2005
EVery. FUCKing. TIME.
Well, every couple of years or so, Jon gets a new job. This happens because after the first year at any given new job is completed, suddenly the shit hits the fan.
At Pall, it was because the guy who hired him in was basically just using him to get his own promotion ("Look! I got a Ph.D working under me!") and once the promotion was attained, he regarded Jon as more of a threat. Made things highly unpleasant for Jon, so he found another job.
At NT2 (biotech startup), it went swimmingly for a bit over a year; then the guy who owned/ran the company missed a couple of grant application deadlines for funding the company's research, and pfft, the company had to fold. This was a month before our accident. Good times, good times.
So here we are. Jon has finished his first year as a prof. at YSU.
POOF! Now they're on strike -- the faculty, I mean. The rest of the employees (clerical, technical, non-academic professionals, maintenance, etc.) have been on strike for a week now. So for the moment, we're without health insurance (until COBRA kicks in, if the strike goes on for more than a week), the term is supposed to start a week from today, and it's total chaos. Jon, not knowing if the strike will last a day, a week, or the entire semester, is still working frantically to get his lectures written and the materials assembled for his class. The research he was starting is now impossible to do, because he is not going to cross the picket line. He needs to get a couple of papers published and one more grant application submitted in order for tenure to happen. OK, he has somewhere between 4 to 6 years to accomplish this, but still.
WHEN? THE? FUCK? WILL? WE? EVER? JUST? GET? TO? LIVE? OUR? LIVES? WITHOUT? ALL? KINDS? OF? SHIT? FLYING? STRAIGHT? AT? US??????????
I'm a tad frustrated.
The back-to-school stuff is really bringing up a lot of grief things for me. That's no fun, either.
I read an article that pretty much caused me to shit my pants, hyperventilate, and make a few tin-foil hats to wear just in case: http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/_/id/7203633?rnd=1121636006239&has-player=unknown Don't say I didn't warn you. I've calmed down a bit, but the overall effect (apart from getting us to think more concretely and less theoretically about conservation and money management in our own lives) was to make me feel even more depressed than ever -- like there really is nothing to look forward to.
And finally, I am being driven mad by my inability to cope with perfectly normal, fairly manageable three-year-old behavior on Emily's part. I know it's not her -- it is most definitely me. I am at the point where I just don't think I can even be a parent, sometimes. I just don't know how to get myself to calm down, go with the flow, and just enjoy this stage. Maybe I'm missing Hannah and unconsciously angry because Emily is not Hannah? I don't know. I don't think I even want to face that one.
I'm hoping that once she starts school (9 more days!!!!) and we get settled into more of a daily routine, in which she gets the interaction with other children that she craves so desperately, it all might settle down. Maybe we're just sick of each other and burned out after a long, and decidedly stressful summer.
I love her so much I can't begin to describe it. You mothers out there know what I mean, but it's just impossible to explain. Maybe that is why I get SO frustrated with her -- if I didn't care, stuff wouldn't bother me so much. I want nothing more than to just be happy and content with her and let her just be what and who she is, and not get so fucking anal about her table manners and whether she cooperates instantly or not. She's THREE, not five, or eighteen, or thirty. Why can't I just accept it? She is NOT going to be this way forever -- it's a matter of days before school starts and she will grow even faster than she already is, through learning so many new things.
I am expecting far too much, and she is doing absolutely admirably under the circumstances. I can't take her anywhere without someone commenting to me on how good her behavior is, how well she interacts with people and how charming she is. (Yes, I'm gloating, but the fact is I hear this ALL THE TIME from all kinds of people who see her out in public.) I know that kids generally behave better out in the world, or with other people, than with parents. Even with Hannah, I sometimes wondered if her teachers, and her friends' parents, were talking about MY child -- she was a great, sweet kid, but she definitely pressed my buttons on a fairly regular basis.
I know that I struggled with Hannah at this age, too. I've discussed it here before -- that long, hot summer-before-preschool. No longer a baby, dying to get out and experience stuff, wanting to do everything herself, and yet still so needy, so vulnerable -- it's rough on both of us. I think it's not unlike what middle-school-aged kids and their parents contend with, although the clothes, music and hairstyles are not nearly as cute.
Maybe it's just that I miss Hannah so much -- and the way she was when she left us. Five years old, going to school, so much more independent, having a social life of her own, old enough to be a genuine help with some things, past the toddler stage. I think on some level I'm expecting Emily to behave like this, and she absolutely cannot do it yet. It is simply impossible -- physiologically and otherwise.
And I need to also stop and realize that a year ago at this time, I would have KILLED for her to start behaving even just the way she is now -- able to eat in restaurants with us and actually have it be FUN; not clinging to my leg every time I left the room to empty the dishwasher or take a shit or get some coffee or something; talking so much and so clearly; able to go to stores (mostly) without having her run around trying to grab everything off the shelf and rearrange it on the floor; able to play independently (well, sometimes).
There is also the fact that I am still (VERY reluctantly) nursing her for a few minutes at bedtime, as part of the routine. We have had so many talks about how big kids who go to school don't nurse. No pressure, but just discussion. We g0 down the (long) list of friends she has and none of them nurse any more. We talk about how we can cuddle and read stories and do other things at bedtime. But, she is just not ready to completely give it up, and I'm not sure how far I want to push her right before starting school -- it's a big transition and I think as excited as she seems about it, she's also a bit nervous and apprehensive. Not to mention that I'm sure the tension of the last month -- ILs visit, Zoe's surgery, our concern about the strike/job stuff, a bit of travel -- has had its effect too.
But I think the nursing is part of why I'm feeling so burned-out and resentful. Even if it's only a couple of minutes at night, it's EVERY. NIGHT. and I don't know if she'll go to sleep without it, and I don't want to either make her miserable by not being there, or gut it out and then have her wake up constantly at night because she's upset. I'm so ready to quit this, but I'm too much of a wuss to do what it takes to transition her away from this.
Hannah self-weaned right after she turned 2, when we moved to MI -- she was only nursing at bedtime from about 18 months anyway, and was able to go to sleep without it anyway, like if I was out with friends or something. Around the time we moved she was only doing it once every other day or even less; finally three or four days went by without; I asked her one night if she wanted to, and she just said "No", and that was that.
Well, Emily did kind of self-potty-train, so maybe that means that I just got one freebie per child.
Maybe I'm just in worse shape emotionally than I let myself feel. I do know I suppress a lot, or kind of sublimate it into a more cerebral, cognitive channel. I'm so afraid to actually FEEL my grief. But I think it's my main problem in coping right now. I honestly do not know how to get beyond this and just deal with it and start healing.
Well, guess that's why I have a therapist.
At Pall, it was because the guy who hired him in was basically just using him to get his own promotion ("Look! I got a Ph.D working under me!") and once the promotion was attained, he regarded Jon as more of a threat. Made things highly unpleasant for Jon, so he found another job.
At NT2 (biotech startup), it went swimmingly for a bit over a year; then the guy who owned/ran the company missed a couple of grant application deadlines for funding the company's research, and pfft, the company had to fold. This was a month before our accident. Good times, good times.
So here we are. Jon has finished his first year as a prof. at YSU.
POOF! Now they're on strike -- the faculty, I mean. The rest of the employees (clerical, technical, non-academic professionals, maintenance, etc.) have been on strike for a week now. So for the moment, we're without health insurance (until COBRA kicks in, if the strike goes on for more than a week), the term is supposed to start a week from today, and it's total chaos. Jon, not knowing if the strike will last a day, a week, or the entire semester, is still working frantically to get his lectures written and the materials assembled for his class. The research he was starting is now impossible to do, because he is not going to cross the picket line. He needs to get a couple of papers published and one more grant application submitted in order for tenure to happen. OK, he has somewhere between 4 to 6 years to accomplish this, but still.
WHEN? THE? FUCK? WILL? WE? EVER? JUST? GET? TO? LIVE? OUR? LIVES? WITHOUT? ALL? KINDS? OF? SHIT? FLYING? STRAIGHT? AT? US??????????
I'm a tad frustrated.
The back-to-school stuff is really bringing up a lot of grief things for me. That's no fun, either.
I read an article that pretty much caused me to shit my pants, hyperventilate, and make a few tin-foil hats to wear just in case: http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/_/id/7203633?rnd=1121636006239&has-player=unknown Don't say I didn't warn you. I've calmed down a bit, but the overall effect (apart from getting us to think more concretely and less theoretically about conservation and money management in our own lives) was to make me feel even more depressed than ever -- like there really is nothing to look forward to.
And finally, I am being driven mad by my inability to cope with perfectly normal, fairly manageable three-year-old behavior on Emily's part. I know it's not her -- it is most definitely me. I am at the point where I just don't think I can even be a parent, sometimes. I just don't know how to get myself to calm down, go with the flow, and just enjoy this stage. Maybe I'm missing Hannah and unconsciously angry because Emily is not Hannah? I don't know. I don't think I even want to face that one.
I'm hoping that once she starts school (9 more days!!!!) and we get settled into more of a daily routine, in which she gets the interaction with other children that she craves so desperately, it all might settle down. Maybe we're just sick of each other and burned out after a long, and decidedly stressful summer.
I love her so much I can't begin to describe it. You mothers out there know what I mean, but it's just impossible to explain. Maybe that is why I get SO frustrated with her -- if I didn't care, stuff wouldn't bother me so much. I want nothing more than to just be happy and content with her and let her just be what and who she is, and not get so fucking anal about her table manners and whether she cooperates instantly or not. She's THREE, not five, or eighteen, or thirty. Why can't I just accept it? She is NOT going to be this way forever -- it's a matter of days before school starts and she will grow even faster than she already is, through learning so many new things.
I am expecting far too much, and she is doing absolutely admirably under the circumstances. I can't take her anywhere without someone commenting to me on how good her behavior is, how well she interacts with people and how charming she is. (Yes, I'm gloating, but the fact is I hear this ALL THE TIME from all kinds of people who see her out in public.) I know that kids generally behave better out in the world, or with other people, than with parents. Even with Hannah, I sometimes wondered if her teachers, and her friends' parents, were talking about MY child -- she was a great, sweet kid, but she definitely pressed my buttons on a fairly regular basis.
I know that I struggled with Hannah at this age, too. I've discussed it here before -- that long, hot summer-before-preschool. No longer a baby, dying to get out and experience stuff, wanting to do everything herself, and yet still so needy, so vulnerable -- it's rough on both of us. I think it's not unlike what middle-school-aged kids and their parents contend with, although the clothes, music and hairstyles are not nearly as cute.
Maybe it's just that I miss Hannah so much -- and the way she was when she left us. Five years old, going to school, so much more independent, having a social life of her own, old enough to be a genuine help with some things, past the toddler stage. I think on some level I'm expecting Emily to behave like this, and she absolutely cannot do it yet. It is simply impossible -- physiologically and otherwise.
And I need to also stop and realize that a year ago at this time, I would have KILLED for her to start behaving even just the way she is now -- able to eat in restaurants with us and actually have it be FUN; not clinging to my leg every time I left the room to empty the dishwasher or take a shit or get some coffee or something; talking so much and so clearly; able to go to stores (mostly) without having her run around trying to grab everything off the shelf and rearrange it on the floor; able to play independently (well, sometimes).
There is also the fact that I am still (VERY reluctantly) nursing her for a few minutes at bedtime, as part of the routine. We have had so many talks about how big kids who go to school don't nurse. No pressure, but just discussion. We g0 down the (long) list of friends she has and none of them nurse any more. We talk about how we can cuddle and read stories and do other things at bedtime. But, she is just not ready to completely give it up, and I'm not sure how far I want to push her right before starting school -- it's a big transition and I think as excited as she seems about it, she's also a bit nervous and apprehensive. Not to mention that I'm sure the tension of the last month -- ILs visit, Zoe's surgery, our concern about the strike/job stuff, a bit of travel -- has had its effect too.
But I think the nursing is part of why I'm feeling so burned-out and resentful. Even if it's only a couple of minutes at night, it's EVERY. NIGHT. and I don't know if she'll go to sleep without it, and I don't want to either make her miserable by not being there, or gut it out and then have her wake up constantly at night because she's upset. I'm so ready to quit this, but I'm too much of a wuss to do what it takes to transition her away from this.
Hannah self-weaned right after she turned 2, when we moved to MI -- she was only nursing at bedtime from about 18 months anyway, and was able to go to sleep without it anyway, like if I was out with friends or something. Around the time we moved she was only doing it once every other day or even less; finally three or four days went by without; I asked her one night if she wanted to, and she just said "No", and that was that.
Well, Emily did kind of self-potty-train, so maybe that means that I just got one freebie per child.
Maybe I'm just in worse shape emotionally than I let myself feel. I do know I suppress a lot, or kind of sublimate it into a more cerebral, cognitive channel. I'm so afraid to actually FEEL my grief. But I think it's my main problem in coping right now. I honestly do not know how to get beyond this and just deal with it and start healing.
Well, guess that's why I have a therapist.
8.16.2005
Heartbreaking
Just looking through the entries on our Quicken accounts brings back so much stuff. All the things we got for Hannah starting kindergarten; her soccer pictures and school pictures; birthday presents for her friends; a couple of doctor visit copays... then seeing all the stuff immediately after the accident, stretching on into when we moved here (July 19, 2004).
We spent the last week in East Lansing and Ann Arbor, and it was so great to see friends (Sandy, Stephanie and Denise) who knew and loved Hannah and who went through this with us. Especially because Emily is old enough now to really play with their kids; a lot of them not only were the parents of Hannah's friends but had younger children in Emily's general age range.
It made me miss her even more, though.
We also met with product liability lawyers today. Can't discuss it but I did see a picture of our car, post-crash. That was very, very hard. I couldn't look at it; I had to cover it up and move on to something else.
More later.
We spent the last week in East Lansing and Ann Arbor, and it was so great to see friends (Sandy, Stephanie and Denise) who knew and loved Hannah and who went through this with us. Especially because Emily is old enough now to really play with their kids; a lot of them not only were the parents of Hannah's friends but had younger children in Emily's general age range.
It made me miss her even more, though.
We also met with product liability lawyers today. Can't discuss it but I did see a picture of our car, post-crash. That was very, very hard. I couldn't look at it; I had to cover it up and move on to something else.
More later.
8.13.2005
Playing ketchup
Well, so the in-laws left on Monday morning. I was absolutely WHIPPED for the rest of the day. Gretchen came over and helped me tidy up a bit while I vented and bitched nonstop. She is a friend to end all friends... I am SO lucky.
Monday night one of my dearest friends (Denise) was passing through town with her husband and kids, on the way to D.C., so of course I had them stay too. Denise was the first friend I made when we moved back to Michigan in 2000. Her son Brandon was essentially Hannah's little brother -- we met when Hannah was just two, and Brandon 3 months old. He was just shy of four years old when Hannah died, and it hit him very, very hard.
Her daughter Elaina is very close in age to Emily -- we were pregnant together for a while -- and the two of them had a blast. Brandon was great too -- I think on some level it comforts him to be around Emily, because she is a lot like Hannah and he is old enough that he probably has a few memories of Hannah.
Denise is one of the most cherished friends I have. Apart from her trying to turn my kids Canadian (getting them hooked on Mr. Dressup, buying ketchup chips) she was like a mother to them -- still is, except we don't get to see her as often.
So we had a blast Monday night and Tuesday morning, but then Tuesday afternoon we came up to beautiful East Lansing, Michigan, so we could be with my family when my sister had her surgery (to repair the aneurysm).
PROFOUND relief
Anyway, she had the surgery today (well, yesterday -- Friday, August 12). I am not a medical person and know nothing about the procedure they did, but apparently they went in through an artery in her leg, and inserted both a stent (or is it stint?) AND some kind of coil so that it essentially blocked off the segment of vessel that had the aneurysm, and the coil supposedly helps hold the blockers in place. We were all scared shitless, because the surgery is a bit risky, but if she didn't have it, this aneurysm bursting would probably kill her instantly, due to its size. But for now she is out of danger. She has had such a complete shit-fest of a summer. I really hope this is it for her and she can finally get her life back.
I think I was more frightened than I realized -- I just felt drained today after I knew she had come out of the surgery successfully. The idea of losing her was so unthinkable that I really didn't even pay much attention to what was going on -- I simply didn't face it - but the tension was there somehow, because when it was relieved today I felt like a wet rag.
What a long, strange trip it's been
So it's been a long couple of weeks. I haven't had my space to myself, or been in my own space, for close to two weeks. Emily's routine is all fucked up, although she's had a great time with my mom -- I think now that she's out of diapers and more independent, my mom enjoys taking her out places -- they spent eight hours playing at the lake yesterday. But the constant attention and indulgence from the grandparents is taking its toll -- she's gotten quite defiant and occasionally rude (in a testing kind of way) and we are definitely going to have to detox a bit from that when we get home, so that she's back to normal by the time school starts (YAAAY!!!).
In other news...
Well, it looks like we have a settlement deal inked with both insurance companies involved in our accident. Emily will be nicely fixed -- not fabulously wealthy, but college will be covered and she can get a hell of a head start on retirement. I get some too, but could not care less.
Then we have to make a decision about pursuing a product-liability suit with the car manufacturer. I really don't want to do it. Jon would like to do it but I know if I was dead-set against it, categorically refused to do it, he would respect my feelings about it. It's too complicated. I wish I could hash out more about it in here, but I really can't. This is the downside of a blog.
A few other tidbits: I seem to be gaining back a little weight (haven't exercised, and am eating some crap due to stress, boredom, and my mother's culinary incompetence); my roots are grown out about an inch and the rest of my hair is beginning to look like Ted Nugent's; and I am sick and fucking tired of summer.
Monday night one of my dearest friends (Denise) was passing through town with her husband and kids, on the way to D.C., so of course I had them stay too. Denise was the first friend I made when we moved back to Michigan in 2000. Her son Brandon was essentially Hannah's little brother -- we met when Hannah was just two, and Brandon 3 months old. He was just shy of four years old when Hannah died, and it hit him very, very hard.
Her daughter Elaina is very close in age to Emily -- we were pregnant together for a while -- and the two of them had a blast. Brandon was great too -- I think on some level it comforts him to be around Emily, because she is a lot like Hannah and he is old enough that he probably has a few memories of Hannah.
Denise is one of the most cherished friends I have. Apart from her trying to turn my kids Canadian (getting them hooked on Mr. Dressup, buying ketchup chips) she was like a mother to them -- still is, except we don't get to see her as often.
So we had a blast Monday night and Tuesday morning, but then Tuesday afternoon we came up to beautiful East Lansing, Michigan, so we could be with my family when my sister had her surgery (to repair the aneurysm).
PROFOUND relief
Anyway, she had the surgery today (well, yesterday -- Friday, August 12). I am not a medical person and know nothing about the procedure they did, but apparently they went in through an artery in her leg, and inserted both a stent (or is it stint?) AND some kind of coil so that it essentially blocked off the segment of vessel that had the aneurysm, and the coil supposedly helps hold the blockers in place. We were all scared shitless, because the surgery is a bit risky, but if she didn't have it, this aneurysm bursting would probably kill her instantly, due to its size. But for now she is out of danger. She has had such a complete shit-fest of a summer. I really hope this is it for her and she can finally get her life back.
I think I was more frightened than I realized -- I just felt drained today after I knew she had come out of the surgery successfully. The idea of losing her was so unthinkable that I really didn't even pay much attention to what was going on -- I simply didn't face it - but the tension was there somehow, because when it was relieved today I felt like a wet rag.
What a long, strange trip it's been
So it's been a long couple of weeks. I haven't had my space to myself, or been in my own space, for close to two weeks. Emily's routine is all fucked up, although she's had a great time with my mom -- I think now that she's out of diapers and more independent, my mom enjoys taking her out places -- they spent eight hours playing at the lake yesterday. But the constant attention and indulgence from the grandparents is taking its toll -- she's gotten quite defiant and occasionally rude (in a testing kind of way) and we are definitely going to have to detox a bit from that when we get home, so that she's back to normal by the time school starts (YAAAY!!!).
In other news...
Well, it looks like we have a settlement deal inked with both insurance companies involved in our accident. Emily will be nicely fixed -- not fabulously wealthy, but college will be covered and she can get a hell of a head start on retirement. I get some too, but could not care less.
Then we have to make a decision about pursuing a product-liability suit with the car manufacturer. I really don't want to do it. Jon would like to do it but I know if I was dead-set against it, categorically refused to do it, he would respect my feelings about it. It's too complicated. I wish I could hash out more about it in here, but I really can't. This is the downside of a blog.
A few other tidbits: I seem to be gaining back a little weight (haven't exercised, and am eating some crap due to stress, boredom, and my mother's culinary incompetence); my roots are grown out about an inch and the rest of my hair is beginning to look like Ted Nugent's; and I am sick and fucking tired of summer.
7.26.2005
FINALLY...
we have some RAIN already. And it's supposed to be in the 70's tomorrow.
Emily is still pretty much flawless in her pottying performance. I have begun to take risks like taking her to the store or mall without a change of clothes/underwear; slightly longer car rides; etc. and she has risen to every challenge. I am so grateful it worked out this way.
I still can't believe Hannah's gone, especially with Emily getting closer and closer to that general age/stage of development.
Emily is still pretty much flawless in her pottying performance. I have begun to take risks like taking her to the store or mall without a change of clothes/underwear; slightly longer car rides; etc. and she has risen to every challenge. I am so grateful it worked out this way.
I still can't believe Hannah's gone, especially with Emily getting closer and closer to that general age/stage of development.
7.24.2005
A little less chaos
Well, since the last:
1. My dad is still the same, but hanging in there.
2. My sister has her surgery date scheduled, and while scared witless at the prospect of major risky brain surgery, at least has something to work with and is not as depressed; in fact, she's going into work the next few days to straighten some last-minute stuff out (surgery is the 11th) and sounds a lot better when I talk to her.
3. Jon seems fine; dr's appointment was uneventful. Still waiting on bloodwork but essentially certain that there is nothing to be concerned about. We are feeling much better.
4. Emily is still potty-trained. One accident, in seven days. Un-fucking-real. She has expanded her horizons and will use facilities in such exotic locales as the library, the Y, other people's homes, the mall. She's woken up dry the last four mornings, and I will probably bite the bullet and stop putting a Pull-up on at night after another three or four dry mornings.
5. Out of nowhere on Thursday (well, not exactly out of nowhere; I'd made quite a snarky call to the home-warranty company a few hours prior), the most recent electrician showed up with a partner, double-checked the fan, removed the offending burned-out switch (where you could see the burn marks from the wires arcing), made plans to come back next week and install a new switch, and got it approved so that the home-warranty company will pick up the tab.
I can't believe we're already looking at the end of summer. Between the visit, my sister's surgery (which will also encompass a two-day Lake Michigan trip for just me, Jon and Emily to finally get to have SOME fun, plus meeting with our attorney and some product-liability attorneys -- much, much too long a story), Jon having to participate in the summer commencement -- an obligation which is handed around between all the newer faculty, and which has effectively cut what little "vacation" we were going to scrape together in August in half, not to mention two weeks of preschool day camp at the Y at the end of the month, AND preschool starting (thank GOD!), that's pretty much it.
Even as I'm completely relieved by the end of the diaper stage and the approach of school starting, it's also a reminder of how time has passed -- now Emily is at the beginning of the stage that Hannah was just ending when she died. And now a little more than half of Emily's life has been spent without her big sister.
It's a little like the premise of the movie Groundhog Day, which I didn't see, but if I understand correctly, something happens in the Bill Murray character's life which causes him to live the same day over and over again.
For us, it's the same thing on a four-year time frame. Five years ago, in June of 2000, we moved to a new town (Ypsilanti) with two-year-old Hannah, bought a house, settled into the area, made friends, got two-year-old to her third birthday, potty-trained, and off to preschool; had 2nd child after Hannah's 4th birthday; Hannah finished preschool and started kindergarten; Jon lost job, disaster ensued.
So far this past year ('04-'05) has been virtually identical in terms of major events and child development as 2000-2001 was for us.
It's completely irrational, but it does make me wonder if we're on some kind of weird cosmic'karmic schedule here. Are we going to have to go through this AGAIN in 2006? I just can't. I seriously don't think I'd survive another loss.
And yet I still want Emily to have a sibling. It's one of those things where, while I dread yet another pregnancy/infancy/toddlerhood marathon, I DO want two kids. The first three years would be as hard as they have typically been for me, with the added stresses of advanced(er) age and grief, but if we don't do this, would we really regret it 10 years from now? I think it's possible.
I understand that other options are adoption and/or fostering, but I am not very interested in pursuing those. Adoption is extremely expensive, not always guaranteed (especially domestic ones, where you make an agreement with a birth mother), and in the case of adopting an older child/special needs child, I have to be brutally honest with myself and admit that I am simply not capable of handling issues that an older/special needs child would bring. I wish I were stronger, but I have to know my limits to do this right.
Fostering would be hard on all of us, I think. Especially given some of the issues that a foster child might bring, plus the impermanence of it. The thought of bringing a child in, getting attached, and then perhaps having to let them go to another home or back to (bad?) parents is simply impossible. Again, we don't have the emotional resources we need to deal with this.
Aside from considerations like whether/when I want to go back to work (beyond the occasional freelance project), and whether it is even possible (depending on if the reversal worked and if I'm not already getting too old), it seems like the least complicated option is just having our own.
The things I have to get past, before I can do this (if it's even possible at all), is that I am still sort of attached to the idea that if we have another baby, I want another girl. I always wanted girls more, but I think now a lot of it has to do with somehow hoping that we would give birth to another Hannah. Especially since Emily, although she is very much her own person, is like Hannah in so many ways, even looking a lot like her. So it seems like that's the kind of kid we produce.
To have a boy would be such a huge adjustment, at least in the beginning. I think Jon would be happy with it -- he doesn't seem to have a preference at all, and unlike many men, doesn't seem to have any kind of ego investment in having a son for all those "carrying on the name" bullshit reasons; but once we were talking about it and I said that one thing about having a boy that would be an adjustment for me is that a lot of boy stuff just bores the crap out of me -- how everything is turned into a weapon at some point (trust me on this -- every single little boy I have ever known goes through this, and it doesn't matter how he was raised -- whether or not it passes DOES depend on how he was raised); all the action-figure super-hero stuff.
My best friend from age 1 to about age 11 was a boy, and we had a blast together (and I was NOT a girly-girl, ever) but I still remember how everything we drew or pretended or played together had to have some kind of vehicle, weapon, or action figure thing involved.
Jon said that he loved playing with Hannah and Emily but he did occasionally find all the "pink stuff" boring. Hannah wasn't really very "girly" and I don't think Emily will ever be, but just like little boys all go through the gun phase, just about all the little girls I've known (including myself) had at least a temporary brush with pink/Barbie/foofy stuff. Again, whether it passes or not seems to depend more on how the parents are -- I've met far too many grown women who are all pink/Barbie/foofy, and their mothers are generally more inclined that way too, from what I can tell.
People have said many things about me, but nobody has ever described me as a girly-girl, so hopefully it'll pass quickly with Emily (again, if she ever really gets into it to begin with -- she seems less interested in it than Hannah was).
In any case, it's ridiculous to prefer a particular gender for a child just based on that. But I do know that I would prefer a girl -- especially one along the same lines as Hannah and Emily -- and I have to find a way to let go of that before we make this decision.
The other, more serious concern for us, is that considering our (at least my) advancing age, the slightly greater chance that there might be something wrong -- especially if it's something life-threatening. I am going out on a limb here admitting this, but I honestly don't know if I'm up for that. I know many, many people deal with these issues with their children, but I don't know if I can. On the other hand, I have a tendency to catastrophize. Maybe it wouldn't be such a huge deal. But I have to be a lot more sure of what I can handle and what I can't, again, before making this decision.
1. My dad is still the same, but hanging in there.
2. My sister has her surgery date scheduled, and while scared witless at the prospect of major risky brain surgery, at least has something to work with and is not as depressed; in fact, she's going into work the next few days to straighten some last-minute stuff out (surgery is the 11th) and sounds a lot better when I talk to her.
3. Jon seems fine; dr's appointment was uneventful. Still waiting on bloodwork but essentially certain that there is nothing to be concerned about. We are feeling much better.
4. Emily is still potty-trained. One accident, in seven days. Un-fucking-real. She has expanded her horizons and will use facilities in such exotic locales as the library, the Y, other people's homes, the mall. She's woken up dry the last four mornings, and I will probably bite the bullet and stop putting a Pull-up on at night after another three or four dry mornings.
5. Out of nowhere on Thursday (well, not exactly out of nowhere; I'd made quite a snarky call to the home-warranty company a few hours prior), the most recent electrician showed up with a partner, double-checked the fan, removed the offending burned-out switch (where you could see the burn marks from the wires arcing), made plans to come back next week and install a new switch, and got it approved so that the home-warranty company will pick up the tab.
I can't believe we're already looking at the end of summer. Between the visit, my sister's surgery (which will also encompass a two-day Lake Michigan trip for just me, Jon and Emily to finally get to have SOME fun, plus meeting with our attorney and some product-liability attorneys -- much, much too long a story), Jon having to participate in the summer commencement -- an obligation which is handed around between all the newer faculty, and which has effectively cut what little "vacation" we were going to scrape together in August in half, not to mention two weeks of preschool day camp at the Y at the end of the month, AND preschool starting (thank GOD!), that's pretty much it.
Even as I'm completely relieved by the end of the diaper stage and the approach of school starting, it's also a reminder of how time has passed -- now Emily is at the beginning of the stage that Hannah was just ending when she died. And now a little more than half of Emily's life has been spent without her big sister.
It's a little like the premise of the movie Groundhog Day, which I didn't see, but if I understand correctly, something happens in the Bill Murray character's life which causes him to live the same day over and over again.
For us, it's the same thing on a four-year time frame. Five years ago, in June of 2000, we moved to a new town (Ypsilanti) with two-year-old Hannah, bought a house, settled into the area, made friends, got two-year-old to her third birthday, potty-trained, and off to preschool; had 2nd child after Hannah's 4th birthday; Hannah finished preschool and started kindergarten; Jon lost job, disaster ensued.
So far this past year ('04-'05) has been virtually identical in terms of major events and child development as 2000-2001 was for us.
It's completely irrational, but it does make me wonder if we're on some kind of weird cosmic'karmic schedule here. Are we going to have to go through this AGAIN in 2006? I just can't. I seriously don't think I'd survive another loss.
And yet I still want Emily to have a sibling. It's one of those things where, while I dread yet another pregnancy/infancy/toddlerhood marathon, I DO want two kids. The first three years would be as hard as they have typically been for me, with the added stresses of advanced(er) age and grief, but if we don't do this, would we really regret it 10 years from now? I think it's possible.
I understand that other options are adoption and/or fostering, but I am not very interested in pursuing those. Adoption is extremely expensive, not always guaranteed (especially domestic ones, where you make an agreement with a birth mother), and in the case of adopting an older child/special needs child, I have to be brutally honest with myself and admit that I am simply not capable of handling issues that an older/special needs child would bring. I wish I were stronger, but I have to know my limits to do this right.
Fostering would be hard on all of us, I think. Especially given some of the issues that a foster child might bring, plus the impermanence of it. The thought of bringing a child in, getting attached, and then perhaps having to let them go to another home or back to (bad?) parents is simply impossible. Again, we don't have the emotional resources we need to deal with this.
Aside from considerations like whether/when I want to go back to work (beyond the occasional freelance project), and whether it is even possible (depending on if the reversal worked and if I'm not already getting too old), it seems like the least complicated option is just having our own.
The things I have to get past, before I can do this (if it's even possible at all), is that I am still sort of attached to the idea that if we have another baby, I want another girl. I always wanted girls more, but I think now a lot of it has to do with somehow hoping that we would give birth to another Hannah. Especially since Emily, although she is very much her own person, is like Hannah in so many ways, even looking a lot like her. So it seems like that's the kind of kid we produce.
To have a boy would be such a huge adjustment, at least in the beginning. I think Jon would be happy with it -- he doesn't seem to have a preference at all, and unlike many men, doesn't seem to have any kind of ego investment in having a son for all those "carrying on the name" bullshit reasons; but once we were talking about it and I said that one thing about having a boy that would be an adjustment for me is that a lot of boy stuff just bores the crap out of me -- how everything is turned into a weapon at some point (trust me on this -- every single little boy I have ever known goes through this, and it doesn't matter how he was raised -- whether or not it passes DOES depend on how he was raised); all the action-figure super-hero stuff.
My best friend from age 1 to about age 11 was a boy, and we had a blast together (and I was NOT a girly-girl, ever) but I still remember how everything we drew or pretended or played together had to have some kind of vehicle, weapon, or action figure thing involved.
Jon said that he loved playing with Hannah and Emily but he did occasionally find all the "pink stuff" boring. Hannah wasn't really very "girly" and I don't think Emily will ever be, but just like little boys all go through the gun phase, just about all the little girls I've known (including myself) had at least a temporary brush with pink/Barbie/foofy stuff. Again, whether it passes or not seems to depend more on how the parents are -- I've met far too many grown women who are all pink/Barbie/foofy, and their mothers are generally more inclined that way too, from what I can tell.
People have said many things about me, but nobody has ever described me as a girly-girl, so hopefully it'll pass quickly with Emily (again, if she ever really gets into it to begin with -- she seems less interested in it than Hannah was).
In any case, it's ridiculous to prefer a particular gender for a child just based on that. But I do know that I would prefer a girl -- especially one along the same lines as Hannah and Emily -- and I have to find a way to let go of that before we make this decision.
The other, more serious concern for us, is that considering our (at least my) advancing age, the slightly greater chance that there might be something wrong -- especially if it's something life-threatening. I am going out on a limb here admitting this, but I honestly don't know if I'm up for that. I know many, many people deal with these issues with their children, but I don't know if I can. On the other hand, I have a tendency to catastrophize. Maybe it wouldn't be such a huge deal. But I have to be a lot more sure of what I can handle and what I can't, again, before making this decision.
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