7 Test and a whole hell of alot of water later.............

     A friend just gave birth last week.  I was talking to her on the phone the other night and she was expressing her shock and awe at how she could love something so intensely and so passionately without having known them for years.  Of course this conversation took me right back to the night I laid my eyes on my son for the first time, a perfect little 3 lb boy.  This mixed the with the anniversary of my grandfathers death approaching took me back to one of the happiness and saddest times of my life.

     We had tried for 8 years to have a baby.  Doctors, Fertility treatments, test after test, and every month, every no,  was a bitter slap in the face to me.  On my 4th wedding anniversary I even begged my husband to leave me, thinking he was young enough to meet someone and have the family I seemed unable to give him (to which he stormed out and returned later with the ugliest sickliest puppy you have ever seen, but that's a story for another time).  

     Ever since I can remember I wanted to be a mother.  Before bed every night I would tuck in my dolls and sing and kiss them to sleep.  While other kids were playing at being doctors and firemen I was in my play kitchen calling them all to dinner of mud pies as their devoted mother.  It was who I was, who I wanted to be.  "You're thinking about it too much" people would say "your trying to hard" said others "just forget about it".  Tell me how I would beg of them, tell me how to stop dreaming and wishing for the thing you've always wanted?  Our parents teach us at a young age to never give up on our dreams and mine was to hold my own child in my arms.  After 8 years of begging, pleading bartering with God, my husband and I decided it was time to discuss adoption.  The thought excited me and saddened me at the same time.  I was delighted at the thought of saving a child, of being a mother, but the thought of never having the ever growing tummy, of feeling my baby kick from deep inside of me, it was ........for lack of better words...heartbreaking.

     I felt like I was disappointing everyone.  My husband desperately wanted to be a father, my parents and his longed for a grandchild.  Friends who didn't know our struggles would ask "so when you going to start a family" like  just being my husband and I wasn't one already.  Everything somehow felt....less.

     It was in the spring of 2008 I received a phone call from my mother and father, my grandfather had been taken to the hospital and they did not expect him to make it back home.  He had slowly been degenerating for 6 years, suffering from what seemed like a million different conditions in slow silence.  

     I was extremely close to my grandfather.  My mother (my hero) worked 3 jobs off and on as I grew up to keep us fed and clothed which often left us at my grandparents which,  was luckily 15 mins up the road.  They were so much more then grandparents, they were my childhood, a zillion wonderful memories and a second set of parents.

     I rushed to be at my grandfathers side.  I would do the hour and a half drive every couple of days, sitting at his bed side as he slowly grew worse and worse with each visit.  We filled the hours talking of his past, my future, my childhood.  Every visit would end the same way.  I would lean over and kiss his cheek as I took his hand and say "I love you grampy" to which he would smirk as he patted my hand and say "I kind of like you too kid"  A line I heard my whole life which I knew to mean I love you too.  during this time I began to feel my body grown sluggish, my stomach would turn on a moments notice, I couldn't sleep, but who could with so much going on?  What really was bothering was this hard little knot I could feel deep in my stomach, a weight like something was sitting on top of my uterus.  It was this feeling that forced me while at the grocery store to bite the bullet and buy a pregnancy test.  I figured things would work out the way they always seemed to, the moment I took the test my period would start and this feeling would leave me.  I drank a bottle of water on the way home and ran to the bathroom without telling my husband.

     The window turned pink instantly and within seconds the plus sign appeared.  I stood there for a moment my eyes filling with tears...what a cruel joke I thought.  Little did I know there is no such thing as a false positive, if you have the hormone in you you are pregnant or where pregnant recently.  I stormed out of the bathroom and thrust the test beneath my husbands nose who was putting way to much salt on a cucumber.  "we need to go back" I snapped.  I remember him looking to the test and then to me as he put a hand out to steady himself "I knew you were pregnant" he said joyously.  This only seemed to piss me off more.  Hadn't he gone through the last 8 years with me?  Didn't he know we couldn't get pregnant?  How dare he get excited by this only to have me watch his hopes crumble when it proved not true.  

"you knew?" I asked scornfully 

"you've been so bitchy lately" he replied.  Believe it or not I just grabbed my things and walked out to the car, I didn't punch him in the head!

3 more tests later and what seemed like a dozen classes of water, I had 4 pregnancy tests in front of me, all with a pretty pink plus sign.  My husband was doing a little dance and trying as hard as he could to not call everyone he knew while I grumbled.  Surely my city had gotten in a bad supply of pregnancy tests and every pharmacy was effected.  I had to go back one more time and get a different brand.  I marched determined into the pharmacy and walked up to the pharmacist.  It took everything in me to calmly explain my situation.

"Miss its 9pm" she told me when I explained that maybe the problem was that I wasn't peeing on those damn sticks in the morning.  "if you have enough of the hormone to register now you certainly are pregnant"

I burst into tears, right there among the condoms and pregnancy tests.  the pharmacist put her arm around me and whispered "I'm sorry" it was only between sobs that I explained how long we had been trying.  I grabbed 3 more tests, still not willing to take her word for it, and a 4 liter bottle of water and headed for the cash.

The next morning I had 7 positive pregnancy tests and an appointment with our OBGYN who confirmed what the test had already told us.....we were expecting a little miracle.

My parents got the first phone call, followed by my grandmother.  2 days later we headed up to see my grandfather.  I'll never forget the look on his face as I walked into the room, his body was shutting down and all of him hurt to move but as I stepped up to his bed he reached out his arms and placed his hands on my stomach.  

"Nanny told you?" I asked proudly to which my grandfather replied "thats not a baby thats a tad pole" (my husband is french)

My grandfather and I spent that visit talking about the type of mother I wanted to be, the hopes and dreams I had for the baby growing inside of me, How I would some day read him the Kipling stories my grandfather once read to me.  I watched his face light up and his eyes tear when i told him if it was a boy I was going to name him after my uncle, his youngest son, who died when I was 6 months.  When it was time to lean I leaned in and kissed his cheek as he took my hand "I love you grampy" I told him "I love you too Mary-Anne" he said.  I didn't think of it at the time, but he told me good bye that day, those were the last words he ever said to me.

My last day talking to him was on a Sunday, by Tuesday he was in a medical induced sleep and he died early Wednesday morning.  6 years later i still feel the loss just as strongly.  Not a day goes by where I don't look at my grandfathers picture and wish he was here to see how much my son has grown, how he has that sharp wit my grandfather had, and this amazing thrist for knowledge that my grandfather so admired.  His passing to this day is one of the most traumatic and life altering moments in my life and I know were it not for that little life inside of me it may have taken much longer for me to recover from the loss.

My grandmother use to tell me that we may not understand why God says no, or his timing but in his own time God would make these things clear to us.  I received an answer to a 8 year prayer at a time when everyone in my family needed it the most.

For the record, I did name him after my uncle and in loving honor of my grandfather, How the Elephant got his Trunk by Rudyard Kipling is one of his favorites, as it was mine.  And every now and then, even tho its well beyond his years I read to him of my grandfathers favorite poet Robert Service.

I am grateful for God blessing me during a time of my greatest sorrow, I'm grateful for my grandfathers last words to me, and I am so grateful that I got to grow up with him being my Grampy.

A Little Prayer

Let us be thankful, Lord, for little things -
The song of birds, the rapture of the rose;
Cloud-dappled skies, the laugh of limpid springs,
Drowned sunbeams and the perfume April blows;
Bronze wheat a-shimmer, purple shade of trees -
Let us be thankful, Lord of Life, for these!

Let us be praiseful, Sire, for simple sights; -
The blue smoke curling from a fire of peat;
Keen stars a-frolicking on frosty nights,
Prismatic pigeons strutting in a street;
Daisies dew-diamonded in smiling sward -
For simple sights let us be praiseful, Lord!

Let us be grateful, God, for health serene,
The hope to do a kindly deed each day;
The faith of fellowship, a conscience clean,
The will to worship and the gift to pray;
For all of worth in us, of You a part,
Let us be grateful, God, with humble heart.

Robert W Service

     

Boy & the Band

Have you ever had a memory of something so sweet, so funny, that you store it in your mind to to make you smile on the bad days?  Anyone who knows me has heard about my son.  He is my pride, my joy, the day he was born was the first day I truly experienced love at its best.  I have a million and one memory's of him with many more to come that carry me through awful moments, terrible days at work etc.......and today he gave me a fresh new one that I would like to share.........that's if I can stop laughing and type.

This is my boy, and yes those glasses are real and yes he picked them out himself.  Hes funny and outgoing, loves soccer and makes new friends easily and he is the biggest geek in all good senses of the word.  He LOVES ALL super heroes, loves Lego and reading and is seriously addicted to Star Wars much to his fathers (king Geek) approval.

This week they had an assembly at school.  A local orchestra had come to play for all the children (the school runs from k-8) and all the little kindergartens where sitting up front.  The teaches expected it may be a tad boring for them, sadly there isn't much interest in orchestras or classical music with kids these days.
Yet as the instruments warmed up my sons eyes widened and as the music turned into the Star Wars theme.....well the Orchestra had acquired a new fan.  To hear his teacher tell it, my son jumped to his little feet, threw his fists in the air and screamed "they are playing my song" as if he was at the greatest rock concert every preformed.  The teachers got a good giggle and the thought makes me burst into laughter but what happens next delights me even more.  The only way they could contain my sons joy and get him to settle so the rest of the kids could hear was with the promise that he could speak to the conductor and the orchestra afterwards.  He sat mystified for the rest of the performance waiting for his chance to meet these people.  When the little concert was done he clapped loudly, hooted, and attempted to whistle (he can't whistle, lol), till his teacher took his hand and brought him up to the performers.

Members of the Orchestra were delighted to meet him and shook his little hand and even gave him an encore performance of his favorite song when he requested.  His school as well as the conductor took pictures of him standing proudly with the band, as my son told them he would definitely bring his Mommy to hear them next time they played.

By the time he got home his joy hadn't died down and he was trying his best to whistle his favorite song between talking about how someday he was going to be part Orchestra and play "the superman song and the star wars song, and does harry potter have a song mom?"

He certainly earned his geeky little reputation between his dad and I and we couldn't be prouder, who knows maybe some day he will be playing with a big orchestra, right now we're just trying to get him to "whistle something else"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO6oIF8O6yk&list=RDMO6oIF8O6yk#t=0

Just Words

Words have long since inspired man kind.  They have provided us comfort, expressed our emotions, lifted a wary soul, inspired faith not to mention spark the imagination, to only name a few.  A simple compliment, a few spoken words can leave a lasting impression and throughout history words have inspired men to fight for theirs and their countries honor.


                                        “Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.” 
                                         ― Rudyard Kipling


Amazing how something we use nearly every min of every day can do so much isn't it?  You would think with such power we would be more selective with the words we speak or write.  If words can inspire so much would it not be our responsibility as human beings to choose the words that will help lift and inspire those around us?  One doesn't have to be Kipling or Dickens to inspire, tho I must say I always thought my words meaningless, after all I'm just me, not a great poet or author.  That changed recently.  I was laying in bed reading a story to my son, who is in kindergarten, and he surprised me by reading the next line in the story.  I was thrilled and turned to him my heart bursting with pride "I'm so proud of you" I told him.  Now I've said these words to him many many times before, but something about this moment made me watch his face as my words registered.  He became proud of himself just by me using those five simple words. His little face lite up and a big smile crossed his face.  He read the next line for me and the line after that.  How wonderful that I could say something, that was so easy to say, and have such a profound effect.

                                       Words are keys to the heart
                                        Chinese Proverb

I spent that night flipping through memories,  that had greatly effected me for the positive.  I thought of the day my mother told me how proud she was that I was her daughter,  I thought of my grandmother telling me not to be afraid that God was walking with us, and I remembered my grandfather kissing my shoulder and telling me he was proud of me, these tid bits of words spoken that burned their way into me and left their lasting impression.  I pondered some of the darker moments of my childhood,  and found words that left there impression there as well.  Angry words that seeped into the hidden places of myself and I began to believe.  Its funny, the good words lift us and can inspire us, but we allow the darker words a deeper place inside ourselves.  We let them fester till them become a cancer and we believe them.  I began to wonder why this was, why the hurtful words were so much easier to believe.  Maybe its because we secretly already believe these things about ourselves before they are said, maybe its because in this day and age the darker words come easier from our mouths then the ones that inspire.  We are all guilty at some point of saying something to someone that we wish we could take back, and we are all guilty of leaving words unsaid that should have been spoken.

                        Because even the smallest of words can be the ones to hurt you, or save you.” 
                             ― Natsuki Takaya

As you can tell I came up with no answers as to the whys, but I did gain a bit of knowledge for who I want to be and what I intend to strive for in the future.  I will never be Browning or Dickens (two of my favorites), chances are my words will not be read and celebrated for generations to come.  I will never give an amazing speech to inspire the masses, or speak words of such courage that men will march to war, but I CAN begin to make the world around me a little better.  I can compliment that stranger with the great shoes that I pass and leave them feeling good all day.  I can remind those around me that I love them each time we speak even if their own words don't always let them say it back.  I can remind my son of all the wonderful things he does, so some day when he reflects on his past there are more good words and then bad ones to look back on.  My words may never inspire the masses but they can still inspire.

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.
Ephesians 4:29

Panic!!!

I can feel it instantly, this cold feeling spreading through my body, like i'm freezing from the inside out.  I begin to sweat, cause the outside of my body is warm despite how i feel inside.  I look down to see my hands are shaking as I feel my insides begin to seize and my body feels like it weighs a million pounds.  I can barely move but my heart is racing so hard I can feel my neck jumping and its steady whoomp whoomp filling my ears.  The room is spinning, each breath bursts from me and the air somehow seems to have gotten thicker, its so hard to breathe.  Am i dying?  is this a heart attack brought on suddenly?  Should seek out help?.  Panic grips me and I lean back in my chair and close my eyes "its just another panic attack" I tell myself and within mins my heart slows back to normal, my body feels like its mine again and I can continue playing with my son.

That's how life is for me, no great and sudden stress, no haunting moment of extreme fear, I was simply playing with my son when my body was seized by panic even tho my mind knew nothing was wrong with my current situation.  Its been this way my whole life, I remember having my first panic attack at 5 and they have only grown steadily stronger as I've aged.  I hate every second of it, I hate that my body doesn't feel like its my own, I hate that I know nothing is wrong but can't help the panic and dread I fear.  Its debilitating sometimes, embarrassing at others, and a constant mystery as to what will bring it on one second to another. It leaves me misunderstood sometimes, thought of as over dramatic at others, and to some ......weak.

Data from a Canadian Community  Health surrey estimated that 3.7% of the population in 2002 , aged 15 and older suffered from some form of panic disorder (man is disorder the correct word cause that is EXACTLY what your body feels like its in) among woman the the rate was 4.6 (take from http://www.statcan.gc.ca/daily-quotidien/041129/dq041129b-eng.htm).  The good news is I'm not alone......the bad news.......panic disorders are still so misunderstood.

One day at work my little alarm rang on my phone.  I made my way over to my purse, took out my pill case and reached for my water to find my fellow employee looking at me.  She asked what I was taking not thinking I had anything to be ashamed of I answered her question

"its an anti-depressant" I said.  She looked at me slightly confused and said "but you seem so happy"

I am happy, and thanks to my medication, yoga, some breathing exercises and alot of self coaching my panic attacks are coming few and farther between, but they aren't gone.  I know tomorrow I could be having the best day of my life, walk outside and seize in panic over nothing.

So here are my last thoughts to those with panic attacks and those without.  To those with, see your doctor, breathe, as scary as it seems in that moment it will be ok in time.  Find someone who understands and talk, its done me a world of good just to feel understood.

To those without, chances are you know someone suffering, so from someone who knows keep this in mind:

Remember that thoughts and behaviors due to anxiety disorders are NOT personality traits!!!!!

Our fear may seem unrealistic to you, but it feels VERY REAL to us.  Remember a time you yourself have felt real fear and you may be able to empathize with how we are feeling during an attack.

.  People naturally want to help a loved one by taking care of everyday tasks but this can leave us feeling even more crippled by our attack

Be patient, we need to be with our bodies till the panic attack subsides so be so with us.



My love and prayers to you all....................I'm going back to playing with my son!

Where Will Our History Go?

I was reading an article in Readers digest today, yes I read it and i'm under 50, about a woman who lost her mother but found her through the writings she left behind.  It was touching and a moving story and got me to thinking about my grandmother, my mother and my son.

In the article the woman found letters, journals, a whole family history while combing through her mothers things after her death.  She rediscovered the woman who raised her, the woman her mother was before she was a mother, the deep love her mother had for her father.  I can say that my mother, myself, and i'm sure other family members had these same type of revelations while helping to clean up my grandmothers things after her passing.  It was a gift from her in a time when I was hurting greatly, a chance to feel closer to her again from a few scraps of paper found here and there.  Journals kept, letters written, old cards that she kept and pictures I drew as a child reminded me that she loved me, and I her.

My mother is an avid writer, keeping journals and books of poetry and stories.  Hopefully the day is long off when I will have to collect her things and sort through them, but I know with a certainty I will receive the same gift my grandmother left for me.......words! Ink on paper, thoughts, feeling, the private things that make the people we love the people we love so much.  And tho alot of what I found about my grandmother was stuff I already knew, her words were something I could hold on to, it was like getting to keep a piece of her.

My thoughts soon led to my son.  Thankfully i'm an avid journaler as my mother is, but in this day and age its a dying trait.  We live in the land of Facebook and twitter.  A place where instead of carefully placing photos into albums we post them straight from our phones without the need to develop them.  When my day on this earth is done and my son is seeking the same comfort I got from finding my grandmothers words, what will he find?  Shall I leave him my passwords on a scrap of paper?  Shall he log into my face book to see the trivial things I posted on a daily bases, the games I played?  Will he seek solace in my little jokes and statuses?  Shall I leave him the combo to my phone so that he can see that I took daily snap shots of him because I love his beautiful little face?  Shall I leave him my email passwords so that he can see the countless emails I sent out to friends and family announcing his accomplishments and our pride in him? Will he know and remember the stories of how his father and I fell in love and how much we wanted a child?

Thankfully I've kept love letters from my husband, letters from my mother and grandmother from when I was younger and years worth of journals but how many of us can say the same?  What will we leave for our children to know us, to get comfort when their worlds no longer have us in it?  How will we let them know of our joys our struggles our losses the things that make us human.

Maybe......just maybe, as wonderful as this information age is, maybe there are some "old fashioned" things we should be fighting a little harder to keep.  Some how I don't think my son will gain the comfort i found in my computer.  So this year I think i'll journal more, maybe fill my journal with pictures of our summer, and I might actually send a letter to his grandmother................the old fashioned way!!!!!  Hes worth the effort, and part of being a mom is thinking about our children's future..........even when we're not here.