So this playgroup I'm in completely imploded this past week. Something about some member keeping a spreadsheet (?!) about another/prospective member, trying to get everyone else involved, then someone else deleted her, so she went off and started a new group. Wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued. It seems more people were discontented than we had assumed, because now most of us, including me, have joined that other group (although I'm going "bi", staying in both).
Holy hell, what a mess.
On the other hand, I designed an absolutely ROCKIN' t-shirt for the original group, but now I doubt it will get made. However, I'd feel funny about letting the new group use the design.
Max is driving me absolutely crazy. He WILL NOT sleep unless he is attached to my boob, or asleep on my lap, or very occasionally in the car (if it's moving). He will also sleep reasonably well in our bed at night. But this means that except for the times Jon takes him off my hands, he is literally attached to me all the time. Not just waking hours.
He is fussy, too. Not colicky like the girls were, but it seems like he gets bored or uncomfortable or something rather quickly. I'm not sure what it is, really. He does have reflux, and that might be part of the problem -- he spits up CONSTANTLY which is also really wearing me out (and destroying all my shirts). We give him Zantac but I don't really see a difference. I'm thinking I might need to check with the ped again about this.
I had thought about trying to start him on a bit of cereal, because sometimes with reflux babies that will stay in a little better, but I don't think he's ready for spoon feeding yet and I don't want to give it to him in a bottle.
I hate wishing his babyhood away, but I am going to be glad when this part passes and I can use my hands from time to time, or even have him unattached to me for more than a half-hour here and there.
6.09.2007
5.31.2007
He's got teeth!
The first 2 are juuuuuust beginning to poke through -- the sharp little edges, anyway. He's been an absolute pill, but seems to be calming down a bit.
Funny; Hannah got her first teeth at 6 months, Emily got them at 3, and Max is halfway in between at 4 1/2 months teething.
I had Sophy babysit for the 2 of them today, which didn't go terribly well -- Max was outraged at the fact that I wasn't there, and that Sophy was not lactating. I did leave bottles, but it just didn't quite cut it.
I did get out briefly this evening, after throwing a mild tantrum about never having a life and Emily being wild and uncontrollable and Max being a human barnacle.
Luckily I was able to refill my Zoloft script while I was out.
Went to the bookstore briefly, wandered around, etc.
Anyway, that's all the drivel for now.
Funny; Hannah got her first teeth at 6 months, Emily got them at 3, and Max is halfway in between at 4 1/2 months teething.
I had Sophy babysit for the 2 of them today, which didn't go terribly well -- Max was outraged at the fact that I wasn't there, and that Sophy was not lactating. I did leave bottles, but it just didn't quite cut it.
I did get out briefly this evening, after throwing a mild tantrum about never having a life and Emily being wild and uncontrollable and Max being a human barnacle.
Luckily I was able to refill my Zoloft script while I was out.
Went to the bookstore briefly, wandered around, etc.
Anyway, that's all the drivel for now.
5.25.2007
The more things change
So apparently we're NOT done supplementing Max. A couple of weeks ago, after his bottle, he threw it all up and was feverish for the next 24 hours. Since rotavirus was going around, I thought that was part of his problem. I took him in the next day and he had gained 4 ounces in as many days, so I decided to stop supplementing (he was just getting 2 oz in the evening).
Well, he turned into one cranky little bastard for the next couple of weeks. He was nursing a lot, peeing and pooping fine, but DAMN he was fussy. We just couldn't figure it out -- maybe he was just about to make a development surge (he did roll over for the first time today...), maybe something I was eating was upsetting him, maybe he was just recovering from being a little sick. Maybe teething, although no sign of teeth yet.
Well, the other night he was just SCREAMING so Jon decided we should just try giving him a 2oz bottle. Sure enough -- he's been like a different kid ever since. It's weird what a difference just that 2oz of formula seems to make. It can't be that he's been thriving on just that feeding, and he certainly nurses nonstop so I know he's getting a bunch. He clearly wasn't losing weight or going hungry when we weren't doing it, but I don't know -- maybe by the end of the day he's tired and wants something more, well, "solid" in his tummy.
Oh well. It's nice to have him back to his (comparatively) unfussy self. I was so traumatized, thinking he was only NOW starting to develop colic, or maybe there was a neurological disorder. You'd think by the 3rd kid I'd know not to imagine worst-case scenarios for everything.
Emily had her last-day-of-school picnic today. It was fun. She played most of the time with her two "boyfriends" (her term, not mine) Anthony and Caleb -- the two redheaded boys in the school. She is definitely more at ease playing with boys -- she certainly has the same energy level and need for constant motion and noise. ASSuming Max shares those traits, she'll make a good big sister for a little boy.
It's weird to think she's getting to the same age/stage Hannah was before she died. I am starting to think about all of that a lot more, as Emily gets ready for kindergarten. I think in a way it's going to be strange when Emily finishes that first kindergarten year and turns 6 -- we will finally be in new territory. I have been parenting kids 5 and under for nearly a decade now. I've mentioned before that this is a bit like the movie Groundhog Day, only instead of repeating each day I repeat 4-year cycles. Except this time we have a baby boy instead of a baby girl, and DH's job is not as likely to be at risk, it's almost the same circumstances -- been in new house/town 2 years, older dd finishing preschool, younger child turning from baby to toddler (or in Max's case, from newborn to just plain baby, what with rolling over and starting to grab at things).
Well, there's more, but I'm tired. More later.
Well, he turned into one cranky little bastard for the next couple of weeks. He was nursing a lot, peeing and pooping fine, but DAMN he was fussy. We just couldn't figure it out -- maybe he was just about to make a development surge (he did roll over for the first time today...), maybe something I was eating was upsetting him, maybe he was just recovering from being a little sick. Maybe teething, although no sign of teeth yet.
Well, the other night he was just SCREAMING so Jon decided we should just try giving him a 2oz bottle. Sure enough -- he's been like a different kid ever since. It's weird what a difference just that 2oz of formula seems to make. It can't be that he's been thriving on just that feeding, and he certainly nurses nonstop so I know he's getting a bunch. He clearly wasn't losing weight or going hungry when we weren't doing it, but I don't know -- maybe by the end of the day he's tired and wants something more, well, "solid" in his tummy.
Oh well. It's nice to have him back to his (comparatively) unfussy self. I was so traumatized, thinking he was only NOW starting to develop colic, or maybe there was a neurological disorder. You'd think by the 3rd kid I'd know not to imagine worst-case scenarios for everything.
Emily had her last-day-of-school picnic today. It was fun. She played most of the time with her two "boyfriends" (her term, not mine) Anthony and Caleb -- the two redheaded boys in the school. She is definitely more at ease playing with boys -- she certainly has the same energy level and need for constant motion and noise. ASSuming Max shares those traits, she'll make a good big sister for a little boy.
It's weird to think she's getting to the same age/stage Hannah was before she died. I am starting to think about all of that a lot more, as Emily gets ready for kindergarten. I think in a way it's going to be strange when Emily finishes that first kindergarten year and turns 6 -- we will finally be in new territory. I have been parenting kids 5 and under for nearly a decade now. I've mentioned before that this is a bit like the movie Groundhog Day, only instead of repeating each day I repeat 4-year cycles. Except this time we have a baby boy instead of a baby girl, and DH's job is not as likely to be at risk, it's almost the same circumstances -- been in new house/town 2 years, older dd finishing preschool, younger child turning from baby to toddler (or in Max's case, from newborn to just plain baby, what with rolling over and starting to grab at things).
Well, there's more, but I'm tired. More later.
5.14.2007
Monday
Things are chugging along. We had a nice Mother's Day -- went to church, chatted with friends, then Emily and I went to the store to get stuff to take to Nesha's for dinner. Then Jon took over with the kids while I fixed a hellacious pasta salad, and then off to Nesha's for dinner: grilled steaks, green salad, my pasta salad, wine, hard cider, and strawberries & ice cream for dessert.
SO much fun. They are becoming real friends. It's funny how Nesha and I have gotten to know each other largely through posting together on the same message boards, which I stumbled on when I posted on Sybermoms that I knew someone with a dd named Philosophy, and two people immediately knew who I was talking about and led me over to those boards.
It reminds me a bit of when I was little and my parents and the Gallins would hang out, although they are pretty much the opposite of the Gallins, thank god. The Gallins scattered when my parents split. I don't think Rita was all that into it, actually.
So today, I hung out and nursed and watched TV in the am, then picked up Emily, took Max for his blood draw for the thyroid check, then off to the mall for lunch and some playing. Not a bad day. I hope the thyroid levels are continuing to normalize. I think they are. The alternative is just too terrifying.
Dinner: ground beef & peas curry, aloo gobi, basmati rice.
Got Emily a haircut today too. Not unlike mine, except hers is longer and her hair is not shot through with wiry grays. She did great -- got her hair washed at the sinks just like a grownup, and was OK about sitting still and following directions during the cut.
Tomorrow's a Meetup playgroup at Karen's. They have a teeny McMansion kind of house and a blingy playset out back, but she's refreshingly down-to-earth. Hoping it's a good turnout.
Friday Jon will be taking the day off, because it'll be Emily's last Friday at preschool (complete with Mom's Day Out so she'll be gone for FIVE HOURS) and he will take charge of Max (except for the nursing, of course) and I will shovel the shit out of this house and make my best effort to get it into some kind of presentable shape. I'm not trying for perfection, but I am trying to get us out of the "squalor" category. It's too gross. I think I'd feel a hell of a lot better, too, if things were fairly neat and comfortable, instead of dirty and chaotic. I'm going to set a goal of having a faculty party sometime this fall, so I can get the house presentable on a day-to-day basis and avoid having the hugely stressful marathon cleaning before the party.
I am also going to have to get the list of home improvements out and see where we can start. I did talk to Pete this week about coming by and checking out our landscaping (or lack thereof) to see what he can do about getting things looking better.
SO much fun. They are becoming real friends. It's funny how Nesha and I have gotten to know each other largely through posting together on the same message boards, which I stumbled on when I posted on Sybermoms that I knew someone with a dd named Philosophy, and two people immediately knew who I was talking about and led me over to those boards.
It reminds me a bit of when I was little and my parents and the Gallins would hang out, although they are pretty much the opposite of the Gallins, thank god. The Gallins scattered when my parents split. I don't think Rita was all that into it, actually.
So today, I hung out and nursed and watched TV in the am, then picked up Emily, took Max for his blood draw for the thyroid check, then off to the mall for lunch and some playing. Not a bad day. I hope the thyroid levels are continuing to normalize. I think they are. The alternative is just too terrifying.
Dinner: ground beef & peas curry, aloo gobi, basmati rice.
Got Emily a haircut today too. Not unlike mine, except hers is longer and her hair is not shot through with wiry grays. She did great -- got her hair washed at the sinks just like a grownup, and was OK about sitting still and following directions during the cut.
Tomorrow's a Meetup playgroup at Karen's. They have a teeny McMansion kind of house and a blingy playset out back, but she's refreshingly down-to-earth. Hoping it's a good turnout.
Friday Jon will be taking the day off, because it'll be Emily's last Friday at preschool (complete with Mom's Day Out so she'll be gone for FIVE HOURS) and he will take charge of Max (except for the nursing, of course) and I will shovel the shit out of this house and make my best effort to get it into some kind of presentable shape. I'm not trying for perfection, but I am trying to get us out of the "squalor" category. It's too gross. I think I'd feel a hell of a lot better, too, if things were fairly neat and comfortable, instead of dirty and chaotic. I'm going to set a goal of having a faculty party sometime this fall, so I can get the house presentable on a day-to-day basis and avoid having the hugely stressful marathon cleaning before the party.
I am also going to have to get the list of home improvements out and see where we can start. I did talk to Pete this week about coming by and checking out our landscaping (or lack thereof) to see what he can do about getting things looking better.
5.12.2007
good hair day
It's amazing what a haircut will do. I found a stylist a year ago at one of the mall places, who actually listens, who is intelligent, and who is over 12 years old. I got the greatest bob, with a very light bang. MUCH better.
Of course, getting to go to the mall without any kids and having something done just for ME helped too.
Of course, getting to go to the mall without any kids and having something done just for ME helped too.
5.11.2007
Annual update
A LOT has changed since last time.
For one thing, we have a son named Max Jonathan, who will be 4 months old a week from today.
Actually that's the main thing that's changed.
We were still on the fence about whether to have another baby. I knew my history and knew that the infant/early toddler part is just not my favorite part of parenting. I also wasn't sure what I'd do if it was a boy.
So I got my period on Hannah's 8th birthday, which kind of stood out. It came and went; then I was a bit late the next month. We weren't trying, but since my PMS symptoms seem to be somewhat similar to early pg symptoms (fatigue, nausea) I decided to test, although I knew there was no way.
Way!
So I started off with the midwife, Tammy P., who turned out to be a controlling nutbar. After a while it was more than I could stand so I switched to her former backup OB, Joni Canby. I had asked Tammy if Dr. Canby was still her backup doc and she said "NO" rather abruptly and clearly did not want to discuss it. The more I got to know Tammy and how crazy she is, the more I realize there is probably a good reason why they don't work together any more.
I had gestational diabetes again, no big surprise. Managed by perinatologists. I also did the CVS again, but to my absolute horror, they did it via a large needle in the abdomen. To be honest I don't think they had a clue how to do it the "real" way. Had I known this, I would have gone out-of-network and just gone back to Ann Arbor for it. Anyway, the results were good, no genetic abnormalities... and it was a BOY.
That was a real blow, for a while. I didn't realize just how much I'd been counting on it being a girl until I found out. I was seriously disappointed, and in the back of my mind even contemplated terminating the pregnancy, although I knew if push came to shove I probably wouldn't want to. Luckily by then it was really too late to do so without it being a major procedure, so I just let the idea go.
Over time I came around to the idea of it being a boy. We were contemplating David or Daniel for a first name, Jonathan for the middle (I happen to like it for a first name, but Jon didn't want to do the "Jr." thing. I didn't either, frankly, but I do like the name). Out of nowhere, Emily said she liked the name Max and that we were going to name the baby Max. At first I thought it was ridiculous and completely pooh-poohed it, and then as time went on it seemed more and more appropriate. And now that he's here, he's definitely a Max.
I had a C-section, scheduled. Partly because they were concerned he was going to be too big for a vaginal delivery (he was 9lb 2oz, but I really think I could have pushed him out), and partly (as I discovered after the fact) because Dr. Canby was going out of town the weekend of the 21st (his due date) so she apparently induced and sectioned the vast majority of her patients that were due around that time. Aside from the fact that I didn't want a Csection to begin with, it also caused the maternity floor at Beeghly to be absolutely overflowing. The nursing staff was stretched as thin as possible, and it sucked.
So partly as a result of that, we got off to a rocky start with nursing, and he was extremely jaundiced; first just the physiologic and then the true breastmilk jaundice. Several thousand heel pricks, a bili-blanket rental, and doctor visits later, the jaundice went away. However, it caused his weight to drop a bit more than usual for newborns, so Dr. Bair (the teenage pediatrician) referred us to a ped. endocrinologist and a ped. GI, just to make sure there weren't any metabolic or GI issues. Also, we went to the lactation staff at Beeghly a few times and they got me on this grueling pumping routine to build up my supply. For a while we had to supplement, but at this point I'd say we're done doing that, and even though he only nurses from one breast, he's gaining weight like a champ -- I took him in Monday because he was fussy and I wanted them to check his ears, and he was 13lb 14 oz. I took him in again Thursday because he got sick (fever, throwing up) and he was 14lb 4 oz!
The GI thinks he has a bit of reflux, so he gets Zantac 2x/day. I can't tell if it makes a difference or not. He spits up a LOT, although it's getting a little better. The girls didn't spit up nearly this much.
Emily on the whole has handled this very well. She loves him, and he always smiles at her. When she is feeling jealous or ignored, which unfortunately is fairly often, she either just complains about it or pushes the limits with US, but does not direct it towards Max. I knew she'd be good. It does help that he was born right in the middle of the school year, so her day-to-day life wasn't disrupted quite as much as it could have been. However, summer yawns before us, and it will be a long one.
It sucks because like his sisters, Max wants to be held all.the.time and doesn't take kindly to being put down. He also wants to nurse almost constantly. So I don't get to do much with Emily and I really hate that. Also, he sleeps with us and that's getting old. I'm hoping that in the next few weeks we can start putting him in his crib for at least the first part of the night. As it is now I'm carrying/holding/sleeping next to him virtually 24/7, and it's taking its toll. Jon was so busy this semester -- it JUST ended this week -- so although he did way more than his share in terms of helping out, it still was brutal.
In other news:
Mom has moved to Orlando, FL. Good in a way; she's near her brother and I think she was ready for a change, but bad too, because now my Michigan "home base" is permanently gone. I mean, her phone number was the same one I grew up with. I always knew that if the shit really hit the fan, I could go there. I still can go to her, but it won't be "home" the way Michigan is.
Also Zoe moved to Charleston, SC, minus Gary -- they're getting a divorce. I won't bore you with the details, but clearly they shouldn't have married in the first place. She's still annoying, in fact more so, as time goes on. She and Mom are two peas in a pod, although she'd probably set me on fire if I said that to her.
Dad is in horrible, horrible shape. His short-term memory is GONE. I really don't think he's functioning at all on his own, which is scary now that he has nobody in town who really gives a damn (besides useless drinking buddies). So I'm trying to convince him to get going down to the Valley or even come here and find a retirement apartment somewhere. It would be incredibly difficult and stressful having him here, but I just can't bear the idea of him completely alone up there with literally nobody to check on him. He could be dead for a week in his apt. before anyone knew, the way it is now.
Emily is going to start kindergarten at Akiva next year (the Jewish private school, where Andrew goes). It's $$$$, but the reason we're doing it is that at Serendipity they want her to stay for the 5's class. In a way I don't think it would be a bad idea, but I don't think they're doing the academic stuff that she is clearly ready for. Since Akiva is more advanced academically but the classes are very small and intimate, this seems like a good balance. She won't get lost in the shuffle, but she'll be challenged as much as she needs to be.
Since she's going to be there, I have drafted a 2-year plan to get this house in top shape. In 2 years, one way or another, I think we'll need to move. Either Jon won't get tenure, in which case we'll leave the area (please, GOD, let him get tenure), or he will, but she'll still be at Akiva and I think we should find a less expensive house, to make more $ available (to say nothing of the burden should Max go there too). I don't know if we would want to leave the Boardman school district, since Emily still may go to middle and/or high school there, and Max may not be at Akiva at all. I do plan to send him to Serendipity when the time comes, unless we decide to move to another part of town.
I have seen a lot of cute, smaller houses in Boardman that are at least 1/3 less than this house. I think we bit off a little more than we could chew -- we can afford it, but it does take a chunk out. It's kind of big, and the neighborhood is a little snobby. I'd like to scale back a bit, find a house with a nice front porch and a neighborhood with sidewalks. We really don't need 4 bedrooms. We just aren't making good use of the space we have and we have too much space.
I had a job, briefly, doing the church newsletter, but once Max was born it was impossible. So I stepped down. I will either start up again this fall, or not at all. I hope I can stay with it -- it was nice to be part of that.
I think that's about it. Getting sleepy. Tomorrow at 9 I'm finally getting a haircut (for the first time since Max was born).
Well, more tomorrow. Hoping the haircut gives me a bit of a lift.
For one thing, we have a son named Max Jonathan, who will be 4 months old a week from today.
Actually that's the main thing that's changed.
We were still on the fence about whether to have another baby. I knew my history and knew that the infant/early toddler part is just not my favorite part of parenting. I also wasn't sure what I'd do if it was a boy.
So I got my period on Hannah's 8th birthday, which kind of stood out. It came and went; then I was a bit late the next month. We weren't trying, but since my PMS symptoms seem to be somewhat similar to early pg symptoms (fatigue, nausea) I decided to test, although I knew there was no way.
Way!
So I started off with the midwife, Tammy P., who turned out to be a controlling nutbar. After a while it was more than I could stand so I switched to her former backup OB, Joni Canby. I had asked Tammy if Dr. Canby was still her backup doc and she said "NO" rather abruptly and clearly did not want to discuss it. The more I got to know Tammy and how crazy she is, the more I realize there is probably a good reason why they don't work together any more.
I had gestational diabetes again, no big surprise. Managed by perinatologists. I also did the CVS again, but to my absolute horror, they did it via a large needle in the abdomen. To be honest I don't think they had a clue how to do it the "real" way. Had I known this, I would have gone out-of-network and just gone back to Ann Arbor for it. Anyway, the results were good, no genetic abnormalities... and it was a BOY.
That was a real blow, for a while. I didn't realize just how much I'd been counting on it being a girl until I found out. I was seriously disappointed, and in the back of my mind even contemplated terminating the pregnancy, although I knew if push came to shove I probably wouldn't want to. Luckily by then it was really too late to do so without it being a major procedure, so I just let the idea go.
Over time I came around to the idea of it being a boy. We were contemplating David or Daniel for a first name, Jonathan for the middle (I happen to like it for a first name, but Jon didn't want to do the "Jr." thing. I didn't either, frankly, but I do like the name). Out of nowhere, Emily said she liked the name Max and that we were going to name the baby Max. At first I thought it was ridiculous and completely pooh-poohed it, and then as time went on it seemed more and more appropriate. And now that he's here, he's definitely a Max.
I had a C-section, scheduled. Partly because they were concerned he was going to be too big for a vaginal delivery (he was 9lb 2oz, but I really think I could have pushed him out), and partly (as I discovered after the fact) because Dr. Canby was going out of town the weekend of the 21st (his due date) so she apparently induced and sectioned the vast majority of her patients that were due around that time. Aside from the fact that I didn't want a Csection to begin with, it also caused the maternity floor at Beeghly to be absolutely overflowing. The nursing staff was stretched as thin as possible, and it sucked.
So partly as a result of that, we got off to a rocky start with nursing, and he was extremely jaundiced; first just the physiologic and then the true breastmilk jaundice. Several thousand heel pricks, a bili-blanket rental, and doctor visits later, the jaundice went away. However, it caused his weight to drop a bit more than usual for newborns, so Dr. Bair (the teenage pediatrician) referred us to a ped. endocrinologist and a ped. GI, just to make sure there weren't any metabolic or GI issues. Also, we went to the lactation staff at Beeghly a few times and they got me on this grueling pumping routine to build up my supply. For a while we had to supplement, but at this point I'd say we're done doing that, and even though he only nurses from one breast, he's gaining weight like a champ -- I took him in Monday because he was fussy and I wanted them to check his ears, and he was 13lb 14 oz. I took him in again Thursday because he got sick (fever, throwing up) and he was 14lb 4 oz!
The GI thinks he has a bit of reflux, so he gets Zantac 2x/day. I can't tell if it makes a difference or not. He spits up a LOT, although it's getting a little better. The girls didn't spit up nearly this much.
Emily on the whole has handled this very well. She loves him, and he always smiles at her. When she is feeling jealous or ignored, which unfortunately is fairly often, she either just complains about it or pushes the limits with US, but does not direct it towards Max. I knew she'd be good. It does help that he was born right in the middle of the school year, so her day-to-day life wasn't disrupted quite as much as it could have been. However, summer yawns before us, and it will be a long one.
It sucks because like his sisters, Max wants to be held all.the.time and doesn't take kindly to being put down. He also wants to nurse almost constantly. So I don't get to do much with Emily and I really hate that. Also, he sleeps with us and that's getting old. I'm hoping that in the next few weeks we can start putting him in his crib for at least the first part of the night. As it is now I'm carrying/holding/sleeping next to him virtually 24/7, and it's taking its toll. Jon was so busy this semester -- it JUST ended this week -- so although he did way more than his share in terms of helping out, it still was brutal.
In other news:
Mom has moved to Orlando, FL. Good in a way; she's near her brother and I think she was ready for a change, but bad too, because now my Michigan "home base" is permanently gone. I mean, her phone number was the same one I grew up with. I always knew that if the shit really hit the fan, I could go there. I still can go to her, but it won't be "home" the way Michigan is.
Also Zoe moved to Charleston, SC, minus Gary -- they're getting a divorce. I won't bore you with the details, but clearly they shouldn't have married in the first place. She's still annoying, in fact more so, as time goes on. She and Mom are two peas in a pod, although she'd probably set me on fire if I said that to her.
Dad is in horrible, horrible shape. His short-term memory is GONE. I really don't think he's functioning at all on his own, which is scary now that he has nobody in town who really gives a damn (besides useless drinking buddies). So I'm trying to convince him to get going down to the Valley or even come here and find a retirement apartment somewhere. It would be incredibly difficult and stressful having him here, but I just can't bear the idea of him completely alone up there with literally nobody to check on him. He could be dead for a week in his apt. before anyone knew, the way it is now.
Emily is going to start kindergarten at Akiva next year (the Jewish private school, where Andrew goes). It's $$$$, but the reason we're doing it is that at Serendipity they want her to stay for the 5's class. In a way I don't think it would be a bad idea, but I don't think they're doing the academic stuff that she is clearly ready for. Since Akiva is more advanced academically but the classes are very small and intimate, this seems like a good balance. She won't get lost in the shuffle, but she'll be challenged as much as she needs to be.
Since she's going to be there, I have drafted a 2-year plan to get this house in top shape. In 2 years, one way or another, I think we'll need to move. Either Jon won't get tenure, in which case we'll leave the area (please, GOD, let him get tenure), or he will, but she'll still be at Akiva and I think we should find a less expensive house, to make more $ available (to say nothing of the burden should Max go there too). I don't know if we would want to leave the Boardman school district, since Emily still may go to middle and/or high school there, and Max may not be at Akiva at all. I do plan to send him to Serendipity when the time comes, unless we decide to move to another part of town.
I have seen a lot of cute, smaller houses in Boardman that are at least 1/3 less than this house. I think we bit off a little more than we could chew -- we can afford it, but it does take a chunk out. It's kind of big, and the neighborhood is a little snobby. I'd like to scale back a bit, find a house with a nice front porch and a neighborhood with sidewalks. We really don't need 4 bedrooms. We just aren't making good use of the space we have and we have too much space.
I had a job, briefly, doing the church newsletter, but once Max was born it was impossible. So I stepped down. I will either start up again this fall, or not at all. I hope I can stay with it -- it was nice to be part of that.
I think that's about it. Getting sleepy. Tomorrow at 9 I'm finally getting a haircut (for the first time since Max was born).
Well, more tomorrow. Hoping the haircut gives me a bit of a lift.
2.02.2006
Welcome to the 21st century
Yes, we've gone broadband. DAMN, it's fast. I love this.
Blindsided by a recent bout of depression which I think was at least peripherally related to January 31, which is the anniversary of Hannah's memorial service.
Last year was a blur, but I think I realized this year that THAT is the date that hits me hard, even more so than the actual death date, because I wasn't "there" for her death, if that makes any sense -- I was knocked silly and was out of it for at least two days, and my memory for at least a couple of weeks after that was completely foggy, as were my thought processes and mental acuity in general.
It was getting the memorial service together, and dealing with everyone's insanity and general thoughtlessness in the process, that kind of woke me out of my stupor. Even as I was driving to the church that morning I was in denial, thinking that she couldn't really be gone forever, but as soon as we were there I knew -- I couldn't pretend otherwise anymore.
And yet I didn't get emotional, at least not that I remember. I think my mind kind of skittered around the actual subject and focused on all the external details -- seeing all the people who came (the church was PACKED, they brought up all the extra folding chairs from the basement and there were still people packed in, standing, at the back and in the vestibule), greeting everyone, kind of keeping an eye on everything.
I wonder sometimes if people who were there thought it was weird that I didn't cry; the rest of my family and close friends cried quite a bit.
I just couldn't. It was so surreal, and in a very twisted way, it was actually quite nice to see everyone and talk to so many friends. I actually found myself enjoying the... whatever it was... wake? downstairs after the service. The service itself was just a blur. Jon's dad did the eulogy, and I think it was pretty good, but I don't really remember. I do remember a couple of the hymns, not by name, but occasionally they play one or the other in church and it kind of hits me then.
Blindsided by a recent bout of depression which I think was at least peripherally related to January 31, which is the anniversary of Hannah's memorial service.
Last year was a blur, but I think I realized this year that THAT is the date that hits me hard, even more so than the actual death date, because I wasn't "there" for her death, if that makes any sense -- I was knocked silly and was out of it for at least two days, and my memory for at least a couple of weeks after that was completely foggy, as were my thought processes and mental acuity in general.
It was getting the memorial service together, and dealing with everyone's insanity and general thoughtlessness in the process, that kind of woke me out of my stupor. Even as I was driving to the church that morning I was in denial, thinking that she couldn't really be gone forever, but as soon as we were there I knew -- I couldn't pretend otherwise anymore.
And yet I didn't get emotional, at least not that I remember. I think my mind kind of skittered around the actual subject and focused on all the external details -- seeing all the people who came (the church was PACKED, they brought up all the extra folding chairs from the basement and there were still people packed in, standing, at the back and in the vestibule), greeting everyone, kind of keeping an eye on everything.
I wonder sometimes if people who were there thought it was weird that I didn't cry; the rest of my family and close friends cried quite a bit.
I just couldn't. It was so surreal, and in a very twisted way, it was actually quite nice to see everyone and talk to so many friends. I actually found myself enjoying the... whatever it was... wake? downstairs after the service. The service itself was just a blur. Jon's dad did the eulogy, and I think it was pretty good, but I don't really remember. I do remember a couple of the hymns, not by name, but occasionally they play one or the other in church and it kind of hits me then.
1.09.2006
Long time no post
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.
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.
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.
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