Well today, as most days at work, my vocalization ran the gamut. I swore more in my first 10 minutes at work than one person should be allowed too in the course of their day or even maybe their lifetime. Yep, I knew it from the moment I walked in and saw how many patients I was going to have to manage. Now I know that's what I get paid a little for, but someday's I just feel it more. I long for a long vacation away from it all, work, kids, life, just everything. However that will not be happening anytime soon. So I wig out sometimes, well a lot of times. Short fuse, yes I will admit I have one. God cursed me with this temper, and a switch that flips at the drop of a hat. Yep mouth like a trucker or drunken sailor. Curse words that should not be uttered by such a refined woman like myself.... HA! I am far from it. I look at my use of curse words, as a way to keep me from having a stroke, keeps my sanity. I let the volcano blow, and then it all settles down, for awhile at least. My favorite word usually starts with an "F", or at least is a big part of it. The word just flows off my tongue. It goes with everything. You know like F*** this sucks, F*** he's hot, F*** it is hot, Awww F*** ain't that cute. See and when you add mother in front of it, all goes perfect with it. Like when you are driving in traffic (yes, I have road rage too) you might find yourself in the need to yell out Mother F***** get off the road, Mother F***** what are you doing, Mother F*** he's hot, Mother F*** that was so sweet, see it works goes with everything, kind of like chips and salsa....So mother F'r is truly one of my daily favorites. Now, of course I also like calling people by what they are, often throughout the day. I call it like I see it, F****** idiot, is perfect, goes for patients, family members, doctors, nurses, anyone including myself. If you are one, then I am going to call you one. Light switches on a lot. Now that is my everyday utterance, I fully admit to this short coming. I own it. I realize that I am who I am and will not be changing anytime soon. So again I accept it. But I know full well that as God has cursed me in one area, he blessed me in another. He gave me a compassionate heart, when one is needed. I suppose that's why I still do what I do everyday. I continue to go back for daily punishment just for the moments when I can give comfort and solace. I am amazed at how I can still have a heart, when I give it out daily. When a person is not long for this world or is not doing well, it's not only them that need a comforting word, but the family that may just need that shoulder to lean into, to cry on. I have seen and felt how just a kind word of encouragement might be what that 22 year old newly paralyzed woman needs, to just sit up and fight for just learning to move forward. I give encouragement to those in need so they may begin to brave the pain. Pain is so much a crippling factor in holding up healing, for it's not just physical it's mental too. Medication can lesson the physical pain, but it takes a bit more to handle the emotional pain. That's what I am for, to help start the healing for many. The simple act of hugging the mother of the son with the traumatic brain injury as she is learning to give feeds through a tube, just to sustain his life. To praise her for what she is attempting to do, letting her know, he knows your are there, even if he can't yet tell her his needs or thanks. It's a great feeling to see her relax a bit and move on with confidence and smile. Just that bit of touching may be the beginning force to keep her going when she doubts she can do this, take her son home for his new long journey. I walk around and give hugs freely all day long. It's a dual process, because not only do I give, I receive, and that helps sustain me. When I give a hug, I take into me what they give. It may be their grief that I absorb, because someone needs too. It may be their happiness that they or their family member has pulled through. I am blessed with having shoulders that are big enough to not only carry my burdens but to handle a few more from people I tend too. I feel their pain, their needs, their joy and their heart breaking. I connect when I need to, when the moment is right, and even though I hate my smile, I will give it brightly every time I walk into a room of those in need, all day long, everyday. I will speak gently, softly or up beat and loudly, mold my vocabulary to the moment, to the need. So even though I fully admit my favorite words are curse words, I can give just as easy those kind word, the ones that will be remembered by those in need, they don't hear the cutting word. Quick as that I can flip that switch. That's how I maintain my sanity. The volcano erupts and out pours all the pain, the suffering, the grief, and even the joy, which as we know allows me to be who I am........ So peace my loves, and happy F****** evening....
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Tuesday, the day before the appointment.......
Tuesday, the day before the appointment.......
Tomorrow I will go see my Medical Oncologist, Dr. Brenner. A good enough doctor for what he has to treat. I can only hope and pray that his treatment plan was the one that will allow me to beat breast cancer. It's odd looking back to this time last year when I went for that long needed mammogram. I had skipped it for a couple of years, I mean I wasn't worried. I had all negative mammograms before, and there were no history of breast cancer in my family. So I wasn't concerned. Nope, not at all. I went in and waited in line to check in, and heard the receptionist ask the lady in front of me if she wanted the 3D mammogram, that it would be an additional 75$ since insurance does not cover it. She declined, when she asked me I quickly said yes, I have a 9 year old son that needs me. Why did I say that, I don't know, just came out. So off I went to have the wonderful pressing of the girls, and then off I went home. No big deal, now worries, letter would come and I would again file it away as another negative, and get my PCP off my back for one more year. However the letter did not come, instead I got phone call from my doctors nurse saying "They found something on your mammogram and need you to go back in for repeat films with an ultra sound. Hmmmmm, well could be a cyst, could be nothing. So I scheduled the appointment, made it late in the day so wouldn't have to miss work. Went by myself, the first of many by myself's, but I did not know that then. Well much ado about many things, ultra sound measured something amiss in my left breast. New mammogram showed a star pattern. The radiologist, called me back to her office to explain it looks like cancer. Just like that. There I sat, all by myself, just nodded and said let's schedule the biopsy. When I made out to my car, the only person I called was my best friend, I mean who else would I call. No real family member would think anything of it, and I could not call my kids,I sure wasn't going to scare them if they did not need it. Bridget went with me on the day of my biopsy, and I was grateful she was there. Went smoothly and life went on. A week later my doctor called me around 6:30 PM on a Thursday to tell me the results. She said it was an aggressive form of cancer, from what she could read, and recommended a few doctors. I was stunned. I held it together, called Bridget, still held it together. Then I called my mom, held it together until I got angry, then let for a brief moment that feeling of "why me" come through and cried. My mom was reasonably upset, but said it will all be fine in her typical fashion. The next day I went in to work and told them, and with a flurry, my boss Lisa took charge, immediately she was on the phone setting up CTRC appointments with the best. My work family came through the whole time I was under going this cancer process, treatment and healing. They held me up at moment I needed them too, and held their breaths while we waited. The thing about cancer is you don't think it will happen to you, that's some else's disease. It happens only to the good people, many say. Well surly there was a mistake, because God knows I'm not a good person, bent a bit actually, so why did it happen to me? One theory, is that I am overweight, increased estrogen with lipose cells, is fuel for hungry cancer cells. Another theory is that I drank weekly, a lot on Friday's and most Saturday's. Another theory is the stress of just my life. Ultimately it was just how it is. Anyway, this was small tumor, found by mammogram, not by feel. That was in my corner. The type of cancer I had was estrogen positive, progesterone positive, and HER2 negative. A breast cancer that can be treated, can be cured with surgery, radiation and chemotherapy if needed. I underwent a partial mastectomy or a lumpectomy as some call it in June of 2015. I was told they would test the lymph nodes and if negative then I would not have any drains and they would leave my axillary nodes alone. Well the day of Surgery, Bridget drove me, my angel, my best friend. My good friend from work came also Kathy, to give support. She took half a day off just to make sure I made it into surgery okay. Just before they were to wheel me into surgery, my mother arrived. Said her good lucks and off I went. I remember waking up from surgery and there was Dr. Byron Branch saying "you won't remember I was here" and I said yes I will, and then asked him if I had any drains. Nope he said, and for the first time that day I felt relief. Pain nothing that I couldn't handle, just knowing that my lymph nodes where clean. Dr. Bhavani Kura also came to see me in recovery, again my work family giving support. My mom left right after I got out of recovery, and Bridget drove me home. Bridget checked on me by phone all the time. Kathy checked on me daily as well. People from worked texted me, face booked me, my friends and family from Bob's side, checked on me. My family by blood did after awhile. You see I suppose they knew I did not need them too. I was fine, plus I had my kids to help me out while I mended and my best friend to make sure I let myself heal. Still the majority of my cancer process was alone, alone in the Med Onc office, alone in the Surgical Onc offices and alone in the Radiation Onc office. I preferred it that way, drove myself, shouldered it, and kept on. I refused to burden anyone, because it's not their burden, but mine. The news of my clean margins, and that Dr. Oliver was sure it was a success, and that I will be cured by surgery alone if I chose was a comforting thought. Well I chose to add radiation therapy, and Dr. Brenner ruled out the need for me to under go Chemotherapy. I suppose a blessing from God, because I would not have to miss any work more than my 2 weeks I took off for the surgery and recovery. It took my incision over 6 weeks to heal. So I could not start Radiation until mid August. I went every day Monday thru Friday at 4:30, right after work. I met amazing people, Tammy Escobedo, who I bonded quickly with, like a sister. She played my Stevie Ray Vaughn while they zapped me. My skin did alright at first and then boom, second degree burns near the end. The wound care they offered just wasn't cutting it. I was in pain and uncomfortable, but I worked through it. Now honestly I did get testy with a few patients who were complaining of their incision pain, their 1/2 incision pain, like they were dying. I so badly wanted to rip off my shirt and say, "see this, this is what pain looks like" but I kept clothed. I did however go see my friends in wound care and with the help of Rebecca and Sue, we came up with a perfect healing plan. I quickly shared with Dr. Crownover. Told him, I got cancer in order to show you how to care for these radiation burns...Silly but it sounded right at time.. Like all wounds, I healed. I still have pain, swelling and a fluid collection that bothers me. I appear whole, except for a small portion to the left side of my breast. I look at it as my battle scar, I bear it, I beat it. Or at least I hope I have. There is so much I need to do in my life, so much I need to share, to give, that I can not fathom breast cancer returning. So yes a part of me is afraid about this appointment tomorrow, but it's unfounded fear because my mammogram done recently was clean, but I do need to hear this for myself from Dr. Brenner. So tomorrow's appointment I think about today, and my future I think about a lot lately. I recently spoke to my sister-in-law, Mary Clair about how I hope before I die, that I be in love, or move to the beach.. Her and I are thinking the beach is where I'll end up, sitting on my deck with wine glass in hand, music of the waves in the back ground, and enjoying the sunsets of my life.. a better way to end...
Tomorrow I will go see my Medical Oncologist, Dr. Brenner. A good enough doctor for what he has to treat. I can only hope and pray that his treatment plan was the one that will allow me to beat breast cancer. It's odd looking back to this time last year when I went for that long needed mammogram. I had skipped it for a couple of years, I mean I wasn't worried. I had all negative mammograms before, and there were no history of breast cancer in my family. So I wasn't concerned. Nope, not at all. I went in and waited in line to check in, and heard the receptionist ask the lady in front of me if she wanted the 3D mammogram, that it would be an additional 75$ since insurance does not cover it. She declined, when she asked me I quickly said yes, I have a 9 year old son that needs me. Why did I say that, I don't know, just came out. So off I went to have the wonderful pressing of the girls, and then off I went home. No big deal, now worries, letter would come and I would again file it away as another negative, and get my PCP off my back for one more year. However the letter did not come, instead I got phone call from my doctors nurse saying "They found something on your mammogram and need you to go back in for repeat films with an ultra sound. Hmmmmm, well could be a cyst, could be nothing. So I scheduled the appointment, made it late in the day so wouldn't have to miss work. Went by myself, the first of many by myself's, but I did not know that then. Well much ado about many things, ultra sound measured something amiss in my left breast. New mammogram showed a star pattern. The radiologist, called me back to her office to explain it looks like cancer. Just like that. There I sat, all by myself, just nodded and said let's schedule the biopsy. When I made out to my car, the only person I called was my best friend, I mean who else would I call. No real family member would think anything of it, and I could not call my kids,I sure wasn't going to scare them if they did not need it. Bridget went with me on the day of my biopsy, and I was grateful she was there. Went smoothly and life went on. A week later my doctor called me around 6:30 PM on a Thursday to tell me the results. She said it was an aggressive form of cancer, from what she could read, and recommended a few doctors. I was stunned. I held it together, called Bridget, still held it together. Then I called my mom, held it together until I got angry, then let for a brief moment that feeling of "why me" come through and cried. My mom was reasonably upset, but said it will all be fine in her typical fashion. The next day I went in to work and told them, and with a flurry, my boss Lisa took charge, immediately she was on the phone setting up CTRC appointments with the best. My work family came through the whole time I was under going this cancer process, treatment and healing. They held me up at moment I needed them too, and held their breaths while we waited. The thing about cancer is you don't think it will happen to you, that's some else's disease. It happens only to the good people, many say. Well surly there was a mistake, because God knows I'm not a good person, bent a bit actually, so why did it happen to me? One theory, is that I am overweight, increased estrogen with lipose cells, is fuel for hungry cancer cells. Another theory is that I drank weekly, a lot on Friday's and most Saturday's. Another theory is the stress of just my life. Ultimately it was just how it is. Anyway, this was small tumor, found by mammogram, not by feel. That was in my corner. The type of cancer I had was estrogen positive, progesterone positive, and HER2 negative. A breast cancer that can be treated, can be cured with surgery, radiation and chemotherapy if needed. I underwent a partial mastectomy or a lumpectomy as some call it in June of 2015. I was told they would test the lymph nodes and if negative then I would not have any drains and they would leave my axillary nodes alone. Well the day of Surgery, Bridget drove me, my angel, my best friend. My good friend from work came also Kathy, to give support. She took half a day off just to make sure I made it into surgery okay. Just before they were to wheel me into surgery, my mother arrived. Said her good lucks and off I went. I remember waking up from surgery and there was Dr. Byron Branch saying "you won't remember I was here" and I said yes I will, and then asked him if I had any drains. Nope he said, and for the first time that day I felt relief. Pain nothing that I couldn't handle, just knowing that my lymph nodes where clean. Dr. Bhavani Kura also came to see me in recovery, again my work family giving support. My mom left right after I got out of recovery, and Bridget drove me home. Bridget checked on me by phone all the time. Kathy checked on me daily as well. People from worked texted me, face booked me, my friends and family from Bob's side, checked on me. My family by blood did after awhile. You see I suppose they knew I did not need them too. I was fine, plus I had my kids to help me out while I mended and my best friend to make sure I let myself heal. Still the majority of my cancer process was alone, alone in the Med Onc office, alone in the Surgical Onc offices and alone in the Radiation Onc office. I preferred it that way, drove myself, shouldered it, and kept on. I refused to burden anyone, because it's not their burden, but mine. The news of my clean margins, and that Dr. Oliver was sure it was a success, and that I will be cured by surgery alone if I chose was a comforting thought. Well I chose to add radiation therapy, and Dr. Brenner ruled out the need for me to under go Chemotherapy. I suppose a blessing from God, because I would not have to miss any work more than my 2 weeks I took off for the surgery and recovery. It took my incision over 6 weeks to heal. So I could not start Radiation until mid August. I went every day Monday thru Friday at 4:30, right after work. I met amazing people, Tammy Escobedo, who I bonded quickly with, like a sister. She played my Stevie Ray Vaughn while they zapped me. My skin did alright at first and then boom, second degree burns near the end. The wound care they offered just wasn't cutting it. I was in pain and uncomfortable, but I worked through it. Now honestly I did get testy with a few patients who were complaining of their incision pain, their 1/2 incision pain, like they were dying. I so badly wanted to rip off my shirt and say, "see this, this is what pain looks like" but I kept clothed. I did however go see my friends in wound care and with the help of Rebecca and Sue, we came up with a perfect healing plan. I quickly shared with Dr. Crownover. Told him, I got cancer in order to show you how to care for these radiation burns...Silly but it sounded right at time.. Like all wounds, I healed. I still have pain, swelling and a fluid collection that bothers me. I appear whole, except for a small portion to the left side of my breast. I look at it as my battle scar, I bear it, I beat it. Or at least I hope I have. There is so much I need to do in my life, so much I need to share, to give, that I can not fathom breast cancer returning. So yes a part of me is afraid about this appointment tomorrow, but it's unfounded fear because my mammogram done recently was clean, but I do need to hear this for myself from Dr. Brenner. So tomorrow's appointment I think about today, and my future I think about a lot lately. I recently spoke to my sister-in-law, Mary Clair about how I hope before I die, that I be in love, or move to the beach.. Her and I are thinking the beach is where I'll end up, sitting on my deck with wine glass in hand, music of the waves in the back ground, and enjoying the sunsets of my life.. a better way to end...
Monday, March 28, 2016
Minds picture is still safe
Oh Monday why do you make me ponder so....
Have you ever longed for someone for what feels all your life. The essence of a soul that you swear does not exist. You place a picture in your mind, he must be very tall. He must have a great smile. He must have lots of hair to run my fingers through. He must have eyes of blue that look and lock up my very soul. He must have a mind that see's all and has lived life. He must have unending passion and fire in his touch. He must possess strength that is not seen but felt.... These little things, no mention of character, profession, age, faith, or vices. Just a man that fits those life long images. It's possible years ago I set out to strengthen my own protective walls by making up this man, the one for me. It has worked, in reality he for me has not existed. That carried away feeling, butterflies in the pit of my stomach, that increase in heart rate just at the thought of him, that I can't eat, can't sleep, can't stop thinking of him feelings, I longed for, always. Never felt them in all my 52 years. Even with the man I would eventually marry and grow to love, I was not "in" love with. I loved him for saving me at one time. I loved him for bringing out the woman in me over and over again. I loved him for being the father of my children, but no passion, no desire to always be near, no feelings of I can't make it without him. No, never. Now when he died, I felt it deeply, but loss of what is easy, what was my everyday existence, what I was responsible for, was just that a loss. Then set the in the feelings of loneliness, from the loss of my normalcy. Tears for emptiness, for being at an age that one can not just walk out and start all over. Over and over again I began thinking back to that picture in my mind, of what or who I thought I needed to find, knowing again he doesn't exist. Safety found in keeping my walls up. My need to protect myself from being lied to, being used, being open to pain, always keeps me on guard. But why would I need to let my walls down since this man I longed for doesn't exist. My dream lover, my dream soul mate, my dream friend, all just a dream......Then out of nowhere walks a man into my life that seemingly fit my life long made up perfect man. The first time I actually met him I couldn't breathe, for his eyes locked mine and did not leave them. His smile blinded me from all those around us, I did not even notice them. I did not get side tracked by other's voices, it all melted into the surroundings around us. He wasn't afraid to touch, and his fingers set my skin afire. He had hair all a mess and full of waves. He was very tall, and I was so able to lean into, strong enough to hold me up. He was familiar, was easy to connect with, it was instant. He was intense, full of living, and had that edge that makes all bad boys appealing. He made my heart quicken with just the thought of him. All of these feelings I had never felt in my 52 years of existing were flooding my whole person. On the verge of obsession, making my balance and my normalcy way off. I don't get all a flutter over a man, nope not me, but with him I did.......The problem is he is a real man, with his own life, his own reality of existence. He's full of his own fears, his own misgivings, his own walls, and no matter how I feel from just our brief moment of sharing the same air, I can not change that. I can not take away his years of pain and self doubt by just thinking I can. So even though he appears to be that man I have dreamed of, I can't move forward. The road block of protective walls are up in front of us both. I will have to be happy with my new found friend, as a friend. Who knows, maybe being his friend I can help him eventually come out from behind his walls and find the one he longs for. She just won't be me, and I am okay with that. For at least I was able to have those absent feelings peek their heads out and let me feel them for a little while. I can let my perfect picture of my most wanted male to go back into my mental files, and still rest assured that he doesn't exist, and that I am safe for another day.
Have you ever longed for someone for what feels all your life. The essence of a soul that you swear does not exist. You place a picture in your mind, he must be very tall. He must have a great smile. He must have lots of hair to run my fingers through. He must have eyes of blue that look and lock up my very soul. He must have a mind that see's all and has lived life. He must have unending passion and fire in his touch. He must possess strength that is not seen but felt.... These little things, no mention of character, profession, age, faith, or vices. Just a man that fits those life long images. It's possible years ago I set out to strengthen my own protective walls by making up this man, the one for me. It has worked, in reality he for me has not existed. That carried away feeling, butterflies in the pit of my stomach, that increase in heart rate just at the thought of him, that I can't eat, can't sleep, can't stop thinking of him feelings, I longed for, always. Never felt them in all my 52 years. Even with the man I would eventually marry and grow to love, I was not "in" love with. I loved him for saving me at one time. I loved him for bringing out the woman in me over and over again. I loved him for being the father of my children, but no passion, no desire to always be near, no feelings of I can't make it without him. No, never. Now when he died, I felt it deeply, but loss of what is easy, what was my everyday existence, what I was responsible for, was just that a loss. Then set the in the feelings of loneliness, from the loss of my normalcy. Tears for emptiness, for being at an age that one can not just walk out and start all over. Over and over again I began thinking back to that picture in my mind, of what or who I thought I needed to find, knowing again he doesn't exist. Safety found in keeping my walls up. My need to protect myself from being lied to, being used, being open to pain, always keeps me on guard. But why would I need to let my walls down since this man I longed for doesn't exist. My dream lover, my dream soul mate, my dream friend, all just a dream......Then out of nowhere walks a man into my life that seemingly fit my life long made up perfect man. The first time I actually met him I couldn't breathe, for his eyes locked mine and did not leave them. His smile blinded me from all those around us, I did not even notice them. I did not get side tracked by other's voices, it all melted into the surroundings around us. He wasn't afraid to touch, and his fingers set my skin afire. He had hair all a mess and full of waves. He was very tall, and I was so able to lean into, strong enough to hold me up. He was familiar, was easy to connect with, it was instant. He was intense, full of living, and had that edge that makes all bad boys appealing. He made my heart quicken with just the thought of him. All of these feelings I had never felt in my 52 years of existing were flooding my whole person. On the verge of obsession, making my balance and my normalcy way off. I don't get all a flutter over a man, nope not me, but with him I did.......The problem is he is a real man, with his own life, his own reality of existence. He's full of his own fears, his own misgivings, his own walls, and no matter how I feel from just our brief moment of sharing the same air, I can not change that. I can not take away his years of pain and self doubt by just thinking I can. So even though he appears to be that man I have dreamed of, I can't move forward. The road block of protective walls are up in front of us both. I will have to be happy with my new found friend, as a friend. Who knows, maybe being his friend I can help him eventually come out from behind his walls and find the one he longs for. She just won't be me, and I am okay with that. For at least I was able to have those absent feelings peek their heads out and let me feel them for a little while. I can let my perfect picture of my most wanted male to go back into my mental files, and still rest assured that he doesn't exist, and that I am safe for another day.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
My light, my hope, my loves
HAPPY EASTER!!!!!!!
Well at least to a certain 10 year old boy, the bunny was very good to him as usual.. ;)
Up before the sun his brother put out the basket and his sister last night after he went to bed hid all the eggs, inside, rain and all. I could not make this journey to me without acknowledging them. Cody, Chelsea and Connor. They have been my driving force beyond self preservation for more than half my life. Everything I've done and will do. Even eventually finding new love will be for them. If mom is happy and settled then they do not need to worry. It will happen someday, I'm working on it, slowly. Still water runs deep..
Now as for my acknowledging my children let me tell you about them, share the workings of these pieces of me and of their late father. Shards of brilliance shining in the sun when they allow. Cody and Chelsea are really guarded, rightfully, and Connor is full in your face sunshine, he's a happy child in a sea of despair around him, all his life. Working on keeping him like that, is what I try to do, because sunshine feels so much better. So onward with my thoughts and descriptions of my better parts of my life.
Cody, like I had said in my first blog, is my first born, pushed into the world on a Sunday December morning. It was pure joy to have that perfect face look up to me. Head full of blonde hair, eyes bright and observing. He was a quiet baby, hardly cried at all. The easy first child that fools you into thinking this is a great tasting piece of cake and want more. He was a big baby, my biggest, 9lbs 10 oz, 21 inches long, perfect in my eyes from first site. He had broke his collar bone to his right side being born, but no one picked that up til his two week check up, never favored the arm, never seemed to notice any pain. I had only 3 weeks to bond with this child until I had to return to work, but who needed 3 weeks when like I said I swore I'd never let him go or hurt his tender heart ever, from that first moment of silence, peace and love when they placed him in my arms. He grew to be a child that took everything in, thought about it, processed it, and either let it go or made it his. He loved music early, movies he chose the horror (must of got that from his dad), loved stories to be read, and playing with his action figures. A love he would carry even to now. He walked really before any of my other children, was 9 months old and took off, never looking back. When he was three I noticed while he was sleeping that his little chest was rising, but no air was going in, panic hit, then he'd gasp, snore and continue on sleeping and breathing. This little boy had hardly ever been sick, never needed a doctor besides check ups, was now being seen by a pedi ENT, had 55%of his airway blocked by his tonsils and adenoids. Surgery was a breeze, but his reaction to this new pain was very frightening, for him and for me. The only time this child had ever tested my patience was when I was trying to help his pain. I still feel his pain, raw and burning, and how his little heart raced, you never forget that. He of course healed and really never complained of pain from that day forth, never remember him even complaining of headaches, body aches or the likes. He internalizes pain, a lot like his dad did. He did well early in school, learned to read before most and was asked when in 1st grade to come back to his old kindergarten class to read to them, to show it can be done. He could write wonderful stories and tell them with a flare. He had a huge talent for this, an area his dad and I wanted him to go into. He however lost his desire for awhile to write. When he started middle school, the disservice I did was move him away from the kids he grew up with in elementary, went to a new school where he knew no one. He stood out like a sore thumb. Blonde blue eyed boy in a sea of brown. He did not mix well, trouble started, and I had too at the end of the school year arrange to have him go to the school by my parents house, so that I knew he'd finish school. We drove him for 6 years, he became a long haired, gothic dressed, smoking, and drinking high schooler. Chose crazy girlfriends, only up side was he had great choices in friends, which most he still has. Thankfully not with the crazy girlfriends. When Cody was 17 and going into his senior year in high school, Connor came into his life. He, like myself with him years earlier, immediately loved this little person. Life happened and set his course of caring and making sure this little boy had happiness, security, and honesty. Cody found himself aimless without direction most of his young adult life. Happens when your father took your trust and crushed it. He had many prize possessions pawned and gone forever. Music was his escape, friends were his escape, and drinking was how he seemed to cope. He was great at first hiding it from me, but when he lost his security job I knew something was a miss. When his dad was in the hospital on the vent, Cody went with me to see him one time. He asked to be left alone with his dad, he had stuff to say that he did not want to share with me. I could see him through the glass, red faced, angry, shaking, crying, when he was done he stormed out of the room yelled he was done, and left. Never looking back. He was not there the next day when I let his dad go. This past year Cody has opened up a bit, maybe because he has had a brush with reality when he got arrested for a DWI. Never been in trouble this one, but sometimes life knocks you upside the head for a reason. He had to get sober for awhile, it was during that time that he started to think about his dad, not all the bad things, but the sober things. What his dad did bring to the table when he could. He realized how much he did have in common with him, even if most were the negative habits, he realized he couldn't continue on with his life if he let his demons control him. He cried in my arms one night about how he missed the opportunity to say how he truly loved his dad when saying his last thoughts to him before he died. He cried about how he let all his pain and anger flow out towards his dad, how he wishes he could of told him how much he loved him, how much he missed him and well ultimately how he needed him. My son has always been a mamma's boy, in the sense that he always bonded and held fast to me. We can talk, we share stories, music and love of video games. Which he lives to play most days. He has finally found a job that he loves to do, and has begun to think of future goals. Baby steps for this boy or young man that has been rudderless for too long. He acquired albums from his dad and from his favorite father of his best friends, he plays them, old rock, old music and remembers the good times from his early childhood, remembers the few moments out in the garage with his dad listening to music into the night. Talking simply with a man he really never got to know. Cody has not found love, and I hope that will happen for him, I tell him it will happen soon enough. He needs to heal himself and be okay with who he is before he shares his life with someone else. He just loves me, still for not just being his mom through thick and thin, but for always believing in him. He knows that he was blessed where I wasn't with at least having someone that gave and gives him unconditional love, support, and well strength to stand when he feels he can't. My son stayed after his dad died to help raise his brother, the brother he adores, he stays to make sure mom carries on, and he stayed to find his way safely. He has great things a head of him should he choose them, if not, if he's okay with who he is, then I am too.
My one and only daughter, Chelsea, my hope. As you may remember I said she came into this world as if she really did not want to be here. Hand up trying to stop the reality from hitting her cold and sharp, unlike the safety of the warm world she had developed in. She let us know from the beginning how unhappy she was, except from time to time you could catch a glimpse of her brilliant smile and deep dimples just melting your heart. She was born with a head full of dark hair that turned sunshine blonde and oh my goodness thick. Was blessed or in her opinion cursed with her dads main. Beautiful inside and out. She was a thumb sucker, comfort seeker into her self, I was her walking pacifier for 6 months straight, closest I think she's allowed me to be. She is not a person that likes to be held, touched even. Sometimes I think it's her fear of connection and feeling, of letting go of pain and taking the comfort. She gets angry easy, but I can't say she did not learn that on her own. I own that. Quick temper and sharp tongue, she inherited from me. She was from the start her daddy's little girl. She loved that man deeply, completely. He liked watching most all sports, so does she. He loved wrestling, so did she. He loved music and well so does she. He hated tomato's and well yep she in like. When she was little she was so active, on the go, loved her Barney and friends, and could fall asleep like her dad at the drop of a hat, mostly in the car. I noticed the change in her once we moved into my parents, once she was without her father, her shine faded. She stayed quiet, withdrawn, and putting on weight, a battle her and I both share, but more for her at an earlier age than me. I usually tell her she needs to let go of the pain and walls she is hiding behind and let that beautiful girl out. She still has a beautiful smile, which we still only catch rarely, and God those dimples. She was my little baseballer, my softball player, she at least pretended she enjoyed it. I think she actually only did it because she knew I loved it. She also was put into dance at 3 by my parents and did this until she was around 11, she hated it, but again did it for me. When she was in school she had few friends, migrated more toward befriending her teachers. She did well, and grew to love history of all sorts. She was a proponent for her father longer than I had been, she held fast in her love for him, hoping always that he would be here. She found peace I think when he was in her presence, well up until her late teens. She went through a few dark teenage years, Bob and I fighting about money and his lack of leaving it in my bank account. His lying, his drinking and drugs. She heard it all, she saw it all. She started to take her anger out on him, proclaimed she had learned to be a bitch from the best, her mom. I will admit I was and still can be. She was old enough to know what it was like to be without when we lost the truck and prayed for the vehicle we were riding in to not stall out. She was 15 when I got pregnant with Connor, I remember her crying when she found out. She was not happy about it, and let me know that I had better have a boy, because she did not want to have to deal with a sister. She was relieved beyond measures when we told her she was to get her wish, a brother it would be. She like her older brother loved her new brother, even though at times she'd remark at how he looked like Elmer Fudd. She was able to finish high school with her dad at home and in a better place taking care of Connor. She spent time with him watching the Spurs play, and also any football game that her dad was watching. They connected for a bit. When she graduated her dad was able to see her walk the stage, one of her happy moments and thoughts of him being there. I did not, I had Pneumonia, so for me to see her walk the stage I would have to wait 7 years for her Associates degree. Her plan when she got out of high school was to go to college so she could become that high school history teacher. Great goal, and she is still working that way. It's a slow process, because she has given so much of her time to care for Connor. She was with me when I withdrew life support from her father, she held his hand and cried. She stayed til the end, loving him and letting him know. Even though she says recently that a few weeks before he died she was in one of her "moods" where he started coughing and all she could whisper under her breath was "die already", she was guilt ridden, she was "I did not mean it, I did not want him to die". She misses him, she see's now all he tried to do near the end, but as we know to little to late. Hardness of the heart is a big unbreakable force when you keep putting more and more pain shellac with every thought of wrong doings. We easily forget the good, the swinging around in the air, the laughs, the tickle monsters, the silly poses, the silly name calling, and the love in the look right before she was tucked in. After her dad died, her new job was to get Connor up every morning for school and off the bus at night, and to help him with his homework. She does this still every day. She cooks his supper and does all the things his mom should do but who is at work. She is his second mom at times, and oh yes his older sister. Even though they argue like they are both 5 years old, they love, love, love each other. He's her little buddy, she allows him to hug her and demands it usually once to twice a day. She reminds him if he forgets that she hasn't had her hug from him today. Moment of connection she gives to him. Someday my daughter I pray will move out of her shell and show the world what an amazing young woman she is. Her bright brilliant smile should always shine through. Those that know her, I mean truly know her, love her. My gentle souled daughter, with a passion for 80's music, sports, my hope for a better tomorrow. She deserves love, security, and I hope passion from her life and in it. She will have to decide for herself the course she will take, but knows that she is okay right where she is at home too, as long as she needs to be.
Oh lastly, my baby by, my Connor, what a sunshine blessing he has been to my life. The child that I always prayed for, the one that loves to be held, loves to have kisses and is silly, free spirited and knows no limits to his happiness. He takes everything around him and feels it. This boy that by all accounts should not be here. I mean, God knew what he was doing by blessing me with this pregnancy at 41. I suppose it was a gift from God to help with the pain that I would have from losing his father early. Connor was also the chance for Bob to give in the end, to try and make amends. He was an easy pregnancy, didn't gain to much, except right at the end when I swelled up like a balloon, became pre-eclamptic and had to have an urgent c-section. He was just like his siblings beautiful when he was born. Head of blonde hair, blue eyes, and the most perfect bow shape mouth. The whole time I was pregnant, Connor was a mover, he was constant motion. I remember my doctor saying that I should expect this boy to be even more so when he was born, and he was. He loved to be in constant motion. Kicking, playing, running, climbing, you could not keep him down. He was a child that I nursed the longest, I suppose it was because I could and because I knew he was my last. It was that bond that kept us connected. He co-slept with me until he was 10. He still will climb up in bed with me to get hugs, and if he's having a hard time I will let him sleep with me. He craves being held, sung too, and just relaxes with the knowledge that you are near. He was his father's world for the last 5 years of Bob's life. He never left that boys side, they went everywhere together. They built my now falling apart deck together, they mowed the lawn, they played, laughed, loved and shared every day happy. Bob would let him nap on him everyday, his favorite spot was snuggled right up next to his dad, both watching TV on the couch. Was hard sometimes to see where one started and the other ended, both sleeping soundly. He was a cherub, a little lover, a look at me tah dah kind of kid. He was like his dad in the picky eating department. That boy will not eat a vegetable to save his hide. "Mom it just makes me gag so"... He's a lover of animals big and small. He takes peoples emotions and draws them in. If you are sad, he's sad, a boy who is not afraid to cry, and cry he does. He misses his dad, terribly. When he started school it was almost as if he sensed something was going to happen. Two weeks before his dad died, Connor was awful to his dad, did not want anything to do with him, just wanted to hang with Cody, play video games, his new passion. He would be like that right after he came home from school, but a few hours after being home, he'd return to his old ways and be right back at his dads side. I think it might of been God's way of directing him toward his brother, who would help him cope once his dad was gone. When Bob went in the hospital, it was a Monday morning. Chelsea was to get Connor up for school that day instead of her dad. Bob spent Sunday evening in pain, coughing, being sick all night long. But in between spells he would hold Connor near, he knew. Connor every day would ask for me to take him to see his dad, but I put him off. I just did not want him to see his dad as bad as he was. I thought it would be easier to remember daddy smiling, not with tubes and scary machines. Bob died on a Thursday before noon, that evening I swore my older kids to not say anything. Connor's whole world was about to get turned upside down and he had one more day of school. On Friday when he came home from school, he immediately demanded to go see his dad, that's when I sat him down and told him as gently as one can to a 5 year old that his dad had died. He cried like he's never cried before, solid 30 minutes, I held him and just let him cry. He fell asleep for two hours, and woke with a start and blurted out "Mom you need to get me a new daddy now"....Poor baby, I cried then. His goal since then is to grow up and be the best thing ever, in his mind that is a dad. He will still sometimes say to me "Mom you need to start dating, I need a step dad, it's time" as if it's that easy. One of the reason's I don't date is because I think about him first. Who would I want to be involved with his growing years, I suppose I'll let you know when I find him. Connor has his own recommendations, he must be very tall, strong, have blue eyes, facial hair, head full of hair, big smile, can laugh loud and hard, and big shoulders, and ultimately he has to be someone that can make his mom smile and feel at ease, plus totally love and get along with Connor. No where in there is he needs to have a job, but that's my problem not his. This little boy has such a way of looking at things, calling me out on life, and constant questions, constant love, constant hugs, and constant reminder that I need to live, so he can too. He is going to be a star someday, well he already is in my eyes and heart. No matter where this boy goes in life I'm sure the ripple will be felt a long way off.
So these are my amazing life gifts, my joys, my heart, my smiles, my laughs, my world, my lights, and above all my life. I am thankful for all the that I have lived through and will continue to live through. For I am blessed with these three souls to love.
Well at least to a certain 10 year old boy, the bunny was very good to him as usual.. ;)
Up before the sun his brother put out the basket and his sister last night after he went to bed hid all the eggs, inside, rain and all. I could not make this journey to me without acknowledging them. Cody, Chelsea and Connor. They have been my driving force beyond self preservation for more than half my life. Everything I've done and will do. Even eventually finding new love will be for them. If mom is happy and settled then they do not need to worry. It will happen someday, I'm working on it, slowly. Still water runs deep..
Now as for my acknowledging my children let me tell you about them, share the workings of these pieces of me and of their late father. Shards of brilliance shining in the sun when they allow. Cody and Chelsea are really guarded, rightfully, and Connor is full in your face sunshine, he's a happy child in a sea of despair around him, all his life. Working on keeping him like that, is what I try to do, because sunshine feels so much better. So onward with my thoughts and descriptions of my better parts of my life.
Cody, like I had said in my first blog, is my first born, pushed into the world on a Sunday December morning. It was pure joy to have that perfect face look up to me. Head full of blonde hair, eyes bright and observing. He was a quiet baby, hardly cried at all. The easy first child that fools you into thinking this is a great tasting piece of cake and want more. He was a big baby, my biggest, 9lbs 10 oz, 21 inches long, perfect in my eyes from first site. He had broke his collar bone to his right side being born, but no one picked that up til his two week check up, never favored the arm, never seemed to notice any pain. I had only 3 weeks to bond with this child until I had to return to work, but who needed 3 weeks when like I said I swore I'd never let him go or hurt his tender heart ever, from that first moment of silence, peace and love when they placed him in my arms. He grew to be a child that took everything in, thought about it, processed it, and either let it go or made it his. He loved music early, movies he chose the horror (must of got that from his dad), loved stories to be read, and playing with his action figures. A love he would carry even to now. He walked really before any of my other children, was 9 months old and took off, never looking back. When he was three I noticed while he was sleeping that his little chest was rising, but no air was going in, panic hit, then he'd gasp, snore and continue on sleeping and breathing. This little boy had hardly ever been sick, never needed a doctor besides check ups, was now being seen by a pedi ENT, had 55%of his airway blocked by his tonsils and adenoids. Surgery was a breeze, but his reaction to this new pain was very frightening, for him and for me. The only time this child had ever tested my patience was when I was trying to help his pain. I still feel his pain, raw and burning, and how his little heart raced, you never forget that. He of course healed and really never complained of pain from that day forth, never remember him even complaining of headaches, body aches or the likes. He internalizes pain, a lot like his dad did. He did well early in school, learned to read before most and was asked when in 1st grade to come back to his old kindergarten class to read to them, to show it can be done. He could write wonderful stories and tell them with a flare. He had a huge talent for this, an area his dad and I wanted him to go into. He however lost his desire for awhile to write. When he started middle school, the disservice I did was move him away from the kids he grew up with in elementary, went to a new school where he knew no one. He stood out like a sore thumb. Blonde blue eyed boy in a sea of brown. He did not mix well, trouble started, and I had too at the end of the school year arrange to have him go to the school by my parents house, so that I knew he'd finish school. We drove him for 6 years, he became a long haired, gothic dressed, smoking, and drinking high schooler. Chose crazy girlfriends, only up side was he had great choices in friends, which most he still has. Thankfully not with the crazy girlfriends. When Cody was 17 and going into his senior year in high school, Connor came into his life. He, like myself with him years earlier, immediately loved this little person. Life happened and set his course of caring and making sure this little boy had happiness, security, and honesty. Cody found himself aimless without direction most of his young adult life. Happens when your father took your trust and crushed it. He had many prize possessions pawned and gone forever. Music was his escape, friends were his escape, and drinking was how he seemed to cope. He was great at first hiding it from me, but when he lost his security job I knew something was a miss. When his dad was in the hospital on the vent, Cody went with me to see him one time. He asked to be left alone with his dad, he had stuff to say that he did not want to share with me. I could see him through the glass, red faced, angry, shaking, crying, when he was done he stormed out of the room yelled he was done, and left. Never looking back. He was not there the next day when I let his dad go. This past year Cody has opened up a bit, maybe because he has had a brush with reality when he got arrested for a DWI. Never been in trouble this one, but sometimes life knocks you upside the head for a reason. He had to get sober for awhile, it was during that time that he started to think about his dad, not all the bad things, but the sober things. What his dad did bring to the table when he could. He realized how much he did have in common with him, even if most were the negative habits, he realized he couldn't continue on with his life if he let his demons control him. He cried in my arms one night about how he missed the opportunity to say how he truly loved his dad when saying his last thoughts to him before he died. He cried about how he let all his pain and anger flow out towards his dad, how he wishes he could of told him how much he loved him, how much he missed him and well ultimately how he needed him. My son has always been a mamma's boy, in the sense that he always bonded and held fast to me. We can talk, we share stories, music and love of video games. Which he lives to play most days. He has finally found a job that he loves to do, and has begun to think of future goals. Baby steps for this boy or young man that has been rudderless for too long. He acquired albums from his dad and from his favorite father of his best friends, he plays them, old rock, old music and remembers the good times from his early childhood, remembers the few moments out in the garage with his dad listening to music into the night. Talking simply with a man he really never got to know. Cody has not found love, and I hope that will happen for him, I tell him it will happen soon enough. He needs to heal himself and be okay with who he is before he shares his life with someone else. He just loves me, still for not just being his mom through thick and thin, but for always believing in him. He knows that he was blessed where I wasn't with at least having someone that gave and gives him unconditional love, support, and well strength to stand when he feels he can't. My son stayed after his dad died to help raise his brother, the brother he adores, he stays to make sure mom carries on, and he stayed to find his way safely. He has great things a head of him should he choose them, if not, if he's okay with who he is, then I am too.
My one and only daughter, Chelsea, my hope. As you may remember I said she came into this world as if she really did not want to be here. Hand up trying to stop the reality from hitting her cold and sharp, unlike the safety of the warm world she had developed in. She let us know from the beginning how unhappy she was, except from time to time you could catch a glimpse of her brilliant smile and deep dimples just melting your heart. She was born with a head full of dark hair that turned sunshine blonde and oh my goodness thick. Was blessed or in her opinion cursed with her dads main. Beautiful inside and out. She was a thumb sucker, comfort seeker into her self, I was her walking pacifier for 6 months straight, closest I think she's allowed me to be. She is not a person that likes to be held, touched even. Sometimes I think it's her fear of connection and feeling, of letting go of pain and taking the comfort. She gets angry easy, but I can't say she did not learn that on her own. I own that. Quick temper and sharp tongue, she inherited from me. She was from the start her daddy's little girl. She loved that man deeply, completely. He liked watching most all sports, so does she. He loved wrestling, so did she. He loved music and well so does she. He hated tomato's and well yep she in like. When she was little she was so active, on the go, loved her Barney and friends, and could fall asleep like her dad at the drop of a hat, mostly in the car. I noticed the change in her once we moved into my parents, once she was without her father, her shine faded. She stayed quiet, withdrawn, and putting on weight, a battle her and I both share, but more for her at an earlier age than me. I usually tell her she needs to let go of the pain and walls she is hiding behind and let that beautiful girl out. She still has a beautiful smile, which we still only catch rarely, and God those dimples. She was my little baseballer, my softball player, she at least pretended she enjoyed it. I think she actually only did it because she knew I loved it. She also was put into dance at 3 by my parents and did this until she was around 11, she hated it, but again did it for me. When she was in school she had few friends, migrated more toward befriending her teachers. She did well, and grew to love history of all sorts. She was a proponent for her father longer than I had been, she held fast in her love for him, hoping always that he would be here. She found peace I think when he was in her presence, well up until her late teens. She went through a few dark teenage years, Bob and I fighting about money and his lack of leaving it in my bank account. His lying, his drinking and drugs. She heard it all, she saw it all. She started to take her anger out on him, proclaimed she had learned to be a bitch from the best, her mom. I will admit I was and still can be. She was old enough to know what it was like to be without when we lost the truck and prayed for the vehicle we were riding in to not stall out. She was 15 when I got pregnant with Connor, I remember her crying when she found out. She was not happy about it, and let me know that I had better have a boy, because she did not want to have to deal with a sister. She was relieved beyond measures when we told her she was to get her wish, a brother it would be. She like her older brother loved her new brother, even though at times she'd remark at how he looked like Elmer Fudd. She was able to finish high school with her dad at home and in a better place taking care of Connor. She spent time with him watching the Spurs play, and also any football game that her dad was watching. They connected for a bit. When she graduated her dad was able to see her walk the stage, one of her happy moments and thoughts of him being there. I did not, I had Pneumonia, so for me to see her walk the stage I would have to wait 7 years for her Associates degree. Her plan when she got out of high school was to go to college so she could become that high school history teacher. Great goal, and she is still working that way. It's a slow process, because she has given so much of her time to care for Connor. She was with me when I withdrew life support from her father, she held his hand and cried. She stayed til the end, loving him and letting him know. Even though she says recently that a few weeks before he died she was in one of her "moods" where he started coughing and all she could whisper under her breath was "die already", she was guilt ridden, she was "I did not mean it, I did not want him to die". She misses him, she see's now all he tried to do near the end, but as we know to little to late. Hardness of the heart is a big unbreakable force when you keep putting more and more pain shellac with every thought of wrong doings. We easily forget the good, the swinging around in the air, the laughs, the tickle monsters, the silly poses, the silly name calling, and the love in the look right before she was tucked in. After her dad died, her new job was to get Connor up every morning for school and off the bus at night, and to help him with his homework. She does this still every day. She cooks his supper and does all the things his mom should do but who is at work. She is his second mom at times, and oh yes his older sister. Even though they argue like they are both 5 years old, they love, love, love each other. He's her little buddy, she allows him to hug her and demands it usually once to twice a day. She reminds him if he forgets that she hasn't had her hug from him today. Moment of connection she gives to him. Someday my daughter I pray will move out of her shell and show the world what an amazing young woman she is. Her bright brilliant smile should always shine through. Those that know her, I mean truly know her, love her. My gentle souled daughter, with a passion for 80's music, sports, my hope for a better tomorrow. She deserves love, security, and I hope passion from her life and in it. She will have to decide for herself the course she will take, but knows that she is okay right where she is at home too, as long as she needs to be.
Oh lastly, my baby by, my Connor, what a sunshine blessing he has been to my life. The child that I always prayed for, the one that loves to be held, loves to have kisses and is silly, free spirited and knows no limits to his happiness. He takes everything around him and feels it. This boy that by all accounts should not be here. I mean, God knew what he was doing by blessing me with this pregnancy at 41. I suppose it was a gift from God to help with the pain that I would have from losing his father early. Connor was also the chance for Bob to give in the end, to try and make amends. He was an easy pregnancy, didn't gain to much, except right at the end when I swelled up like a balloon, became pre-eclamptic and had to have an urgent c-section. He was just like his siblings beautiful when he was born. Head of blonde hair, blue eyes, and the most perfect bow shape mouth. The whole time I was pregnant, Connor was a mover, he was constant motion. I remember my doctor saying that I should expect this boy to be even more so when he was born, and he was. He loved to be in constant motion. Kicking, playing, running, climbing, you could not keep him down. He was a child that I nursed the longest, I suppose it was because I could and because I knew he was my last. It was that bond that kept us connected. He co-slept with me until he was 10. He still will climb up in bed with me to get hugs, and if he's having a hard time I will let him sleep with me. He craves being held, sung too, and just relaxes with the knowledge that you are near. He was his father's world for the last 5 years of Bob's life. He never left that boys side, they went everywhere together. They built my now falling apart deck together, they mowed the lawn, they played, laughed, loved and shared every day happy. Bob would let him nap on him everyday, his favorite spot was snuggled right up next to his dad, both watching TV on the couch. Was hard sometimes to see where one started and the other ended, both sleeping soundly. He was a cherub, a little lover, a look at me tah dah kind of kid. He was like his dad in the picky eating department. That boy will not eat a vegetable to save his hide. "Mom it just makes me gag so"... He's a lover of animals big and small. He takes peoples emotions and draws them in. If you are sad, he's sad, a boy who is not afraid to cry, and cry he does. He misses his dad, terribly. When he started school it was almost as if he sensed something was going to happen. Two weeks before his dad died, Connor was awful to his dad, did not want anything to do with him, just wanted to hang with Cody, play video games, his new passion. He would be like that right after he came home from school, but a few hours after being home, he'd return to his old ways and be right back at his dads side. I think it might of been God's way of directing him toward his brother, who would help him cope once his dad was gone. When Bob went in the hospital, it was a Monday morning. Chelsea was to get Connor up for school that day instead of her dad. Bob spent Sunday evening in pain, coughing, being sick all night long. But in between spells he would hold Connor near, he knew. Connor every day would ask for me to take him to see his dad, but I put him off. I just did not want him to see his dad as bad as he was. I thought it would be easier to remember daddy smiling, not with tubes and scary machines. Bob died on a Thursday before noon, that evening I swore my older kids to not say anything. Connor's whole world was about to get turned upside down and he had one more day of school. On Friday when he came home from school, he immediately demanded to go see his dad, that's when I sat him down and told him as gently as one can to a 5 year old that his dad had died. He cried like he's never cried before, solid 30 minutes, I held him and just let him cry. He fell asleep for two hours, and woke with a start and blurted out "Mom you need to get me a new daddy now"....Poor baby, I cried then. His goal since then is to grow up and be the best thing ever, in his mind that is a dad. He will still sometimes say to me "Mom you need to start dating, I need a step dad, it's time" as if it's that easy. One of the reason's I don't date is because I think about him first. Who would I want to be involved with his growing years, I suppose I'll let you know when I find him. Connor has his own recommendations, he must be very tall, strong, have blue eyes, facial hair, head full of hair, big smile, can laugh loud and hard, and big shoulders, and ultimately he has to be someone that can make his mom smile and feel at ease, plus totally love and get along with Connor. No where in there is he needs to have a job, but that's my problem not his. This little boy has such a way of looking at things, calling me out on life, and constant questions, constant love, constant hugs, and constant reminder that I need to live, so he can too. He is going to be a star someday, well he already is in my eyes and heart. No matter where this boy goes in life I'm sure the ripple will be felt a long way off.
So these are my amazing life gifts, my joys, my heart, my smiles, my laughs, my world, my lights, and above all my life. I am thankful for all the that I have lived through and will continue to live through. For I am blessed with these three souls to love.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
The beginning
Bear with me... This is a new arena for me and my ramblings. Usually they just clutter up my mind and keep me from sleeping most nights. So now I will clutter the page and maybe free up some space to be able to rest for awhile.
Shall we dance?
As I begin this journey of self recognition, defining, reshaping and growing to be a better me. I will need to unpack some of this baggage that I have been carrying for the last 52 years. The baggage that has weighed on my soul for far to long. My journey thus far has had more tears than needed, more downs than ups, more what the fuck moments that leave you spinning in the dirt, and more pulling myself back up moments than the average soul. The last part of the statement is what I do, I get up. Everyday, all day long. No I am not dirt poor, sickly, beaten down, self loathing, homeless, jobless or pitied. Just a survivor for today. So I suppose the best part is to start at the beginning of my journey to me and to why I decided to write. No the beginning wasn't my birth, although trying to get into this world earlier than most was how I entered, 6 weeks premature, but a whopping 5lbs 6oz. Yep a survivable weight for preemie born in the 60's. Nope all was well when I was born. World at war, unrest, music revolution, changing, growing nation. Me a free spirit was born, and quickly caged. Oh to say I had wonderful parents would be a fairy-tale. Now yes they clothed, they fed me, they sent me to school. Success on their parts. What they did not do was love unconditionally, support emotionally, believe in me, or strive to help their daughter grow into a successful human being. No, they set out to make my early existence painfully memorable. Belts, switches, hands, and words were the weapons of choice. How does one grow when you are punished for being a female, opinionated, strong willed, open eyed. How does one grow when you are made to feel as if it's all your fault, and told so many times, for the troubles in their lives. Told you are stupid, fat, ugly, useless, going to be a failure, addict, and never amount to anything. All the while you are responsible for watching the younger siblings, that well get the better of their attentions. The 1st boy with the bright blue eyes, intellect, the apple of his mother's eyes. The 2nd daughter with curls, perfect little nose and smile, beautiful to behold, more quiet than the first one. Then later would come the beautiful blonde, blue eyed daughter that would shine for both parents, hope for their future. With lastly the demon seed youngest son, who the father poured his hopes into. All born innocent, but yet all suffered in their own rights, especially after I left, but for 21 years I took the brunt of the anger. I took the responsibility, I shielded them for as long as I could. Then I ran, not wisely, but I escaped, well for bit.......I ran to the arms of a person who didn't ask for anything of me, but to be me. That was refreshing. He loved me for who I was, and always did. What I did not know at the time was that I was an enabler. Of course I was, child of an alcoholic father, and disconnected mother, who wouldn't be, and I suppose I still am, just now more aware of it. However being this as a person was just another reason this man I ran away to loved me, and needed me, all because of my enabling ways. (Hind sight is great isn't) Anyway, my future husband, was a long haired, music loving, partying loving, less than hard worker that could touch me like no one before or since. I was hooked. I know now that he was a way out, and would also fail me over 27 years, but did help set me on the course of where I am now. In all fairness I failed him too by allowing him to lie, steal, use, and ultimately die...but that's jumping a head of the story... Anyway Bob did try to balance me and my painful parents. They hated him, he was never going to amount to anything they said, you will be dragged down with him, come crawling home on welfare dragging your 7 kids behind you, strung out on drugs and alcohol.... Yep loving in-laws, loving parents. I worked at trying to create a normal life with him, hard to do when you are a 21 year old female, living at his mother's house with the rest of his family, who I grew to love and call my own. They had their own horror story and painful existence, part of the reason for Bob's personal demons. It's amazing how we magnets of despair attract each other, hmmm. At the time I moved in he was between jobs, so I went to work at a local hair salon and life began. I was happy then with being "in love" or actually in the idea of possibly being "in love". No harsh words were said to me, no painful lashing of hand or belt, no threat of violence existed. Bob never struck me, ever by hand or mouth. His lying actions later wounded my psyche, creating a huge trust issue that has left a large gap in my soul, a non-healing scar, but less painful than the others... We married in 86, January 28, familiar day? May not be, but we said "I do" two hours after the space shuttle blew up. I should of known. I paid for the court marriage and our rings. My mom and my Aunt Sharon Kay were there. My mom said she had see it to believe it, my Aunt was there because she loved me. She brought my bouquet, my mom brought her disdain in disguise of "I'm here for you".....Life went on......We tried to move out on our own in the late 80's, he was working pretty steady I was now in a very productive salon, and well he convinced me that we needed a child. While working on that, which was never a dull process between us, I continued to deal with my wonderful parents. Tried too. We'd go see them from time to time, but after each visit I'd be an emotional wreak. Failure was stamped on my forehead, self loathing was a common everyday waking feeling. Bob never said anything to me about them, except for you are beautiful, smart and so much more than what they will ever see so "fuck them", and then go about his business of the day. About that time my parents moved to Texas, so that was a blessing to my emotional well being. I'd still call them almost every Sunday just to try and talk to my mom. Me reaching out to them, the calls from them were always few and usually never. Except for the drunk calls at all hours of the night. Crying about how I let him down, how I failed at not launching myself into a singing career, how I hurt them all. Yeah, still hear them in my head. Bob would take the phone from me, no holding me, comforting me or lecturing me about not answering the phone. He didn't talk much, never did, he didn't touch much either, I suppose only when he needed it. We were opposites, but he did balance me for awhile.......
Ahhhh the joy of becoming parents. He was elated, I was "I can't do this" at 12 weeks pregnant. I sat straight up one night and simply yelled that out. He, simply woke up, and said "It's a little to late for that thought" and went back to sleep, easily. He could always easily sleep anywhere, anytime, I envied him for that, still do....... So of course after that out burst I continued on to my new journey of becoming a mom, well the role of it in a pregnant woman's mind. It was a typical pregnancy, you know sick the whole time, but you work through it. I was happy about it, loved the feeling, the insights that grew. My parent's were again not happy about it. I mean come on they were in their early 40's still with little kids and a teenager at home, working, they were to young to be grandparents, what was I doing to them, how was I going to support a child when we could barely support each other, you'll be begging to move in with us and put a drain on our life when this all goes south. Ahhhh the joy's....In December of 87, 2 days after Christmas, I pushed into this world at 3:14 AM a beautiful son. Immediate love and the feeling of I will always protect you, love you, and be there for you. Nurture that came first and foremost. Bob was elated, victory sign to everyone, he had a son... Left me sleeping, and the next night he celebrated in his usual fashion, drinks, drugs and friends. It snowed that day, he was sledding down a street in Dumfries, VA with his best friend and chosen brother, his greatest love. I became a mother and now became the responsible adult for all of us. Not long after my first son was born, Bob lost job his job and we had to move back in with his mom. Again life went on. Three years later I'd get pregnant again, my choice, my need this time. Bob and I used to joke that I'd leave him if he ever became bald or lost all his teeth, and he me if I got up over 200 pounds... with the exception of me being pregnant..Silly us! My daughter was born in the summer of 90, she had to be cut out of me. She had her left arm up over her head trying to stop from coming into this world the normal way, my daughter. She seemed sad to be here, crying to be heard all the time, she was colicky and always wanted to be held. Bob gravitated to his daughter, she was his little girl. She was a beautiful baby, dimples, blonde hair, blue eyes and the best smile, when happy. She loved her daddy so. When she was a baby she was sick a lot. No fault of hers, fault lay in the surrounding environment. Smokers, causing irritation to her delicate sinus passageways, building fluid up, and creating a ripe environment for infection. My poor baby girl. In pain most of the time, first tubes as a toddler, ruptured ear drum as well, and eventually some hearing loss. Her dad was like, she's just like me, he had suffered hearing loss as well from ruptured ear drum from when he was a child. Anyway, because these life issues, I lost my job as a manager for a hair salon, had to take to much time off. Bob again was hit or miss with working. He also at this time was running around with a new bunch of friends, drinking nightly, and well now I know doing way too many drugs. He got arrested for DWI, again. I was called by one of his drunk buddies to let me know at 3AM, so I could go bail him out. Freezing cold outside, me shaking from so much anger, had to bundle my babies up and go pick up their dad. He as always had one story or another for what happened. He never got his license back ever. Again I could hear my parents words calling out my future, I suppose it was around this time I started thinking about going back to school. I had always wanted to be a nurse, but the only way I could have went to college right out of high school was if I joined the military because my parents said no. However that was not going happen, because I did my time as an army brat and had enough of yes sir and control. Anyway I bit the bullet and asked my parents for help. They did, they came and got me and the kids and brought us to Texas. Bob was to join later, this was because he got arrested 3 days before we were to leave, yep they came 3 officers to the house and cuffed him right there in front of his kids.. Good thing for them to see, and my last vision of him in VA. I drove away in Feb of 93, hoping to come back to VA someday, but ultimately fate had other ideas.......
The ride to Texas was no way fun for me and my kids. My dad made them feel scared, where they had always been free spirited happy kids, they were now to be handled. The only up side was that I love Texas, and it was like coming home. Now I was reminded by looks and feelings from my parents, of my mothers foretelling of me moving back in with them with my kids, minus 5 more, since it was always me and my 7 kids, minus me strung out on drugs and alcohol, and at the time minus me being on welfare. I know it was not a good thing to happen, to my parents, to me, to my precious children or to my siblings. We disrupted their lives, and am guilty for being the one to "ruin" those years for them. The kids and I set up living in one room in my parents house. Small room for eventually 4 people. Bob left VA to follow his family, but I think it was also a way for him to escape the law. He jumped bail, I did not know this at the time, blinders I suppose. He tried to work but without a license to drive or to be journeyman plumber here in TX it was a bit hard. He had to much time on his hands, to many items available to pawn, and way to easy drugs to obtain. Me, I went to school, got my oldest into kindergarten and Chelsea, my daughter, into pre-school. My parents did help with everything financially for the kids, the fed them, clothed them and housed them. I was able to get grants for school and started my ADN journey. An "A" student for the most part. Amazing considering all that was happening. The fighting, the lying, and the ugliness of life surrounded our everyday existence. Around December of 94 I went back to church, briefly, with the kids, got Bob to go. He and Cody were saved together and baptized, I thought this is it, our lives are going to turn around, through Gods grace. I was to start nursing school in January of 95. I could see that light at the end of the tunnel, our way out to being a happy, normal, productive, safe family. But then everything fell apart. Things came up missing at my parents house, money came up missing. Fights, accusations and Bob was asked to move out. He left with his clothes in a trash bag and was out on the streets, now homeless in the December cold. I was left to manage the kids before Christmas and shelter them from the wrath of my parents and siblings. My last fist fight was with my dad at 32, I had, had enough of being called a bitch and worthless bringer of badness to their lives. Never again was I struck after that, nor will ever allow anyone that close without striking the last blow, or they killing me. I digress, at the time, I went on public assistance, so that I could contribute, to pay for Chelsea's day care and to obtain medical/dental care for my kids. So the welfare part finally came to fruition. Onward and upward I marched through Nursing school, managing my kids and trying to comfort Bob while homeless out on the streets. He worked day labor and paid for daily room at one of the bunk houses. Drugs and alcohol and other homeless men were his new life outside the short glimpses of his family. Guilt it's a bitch. I started working at UHS in Dec of 95, became a Med tech, best thing I ever did. Got my foot in the door and will always be grateful to Elizabeth Wilson for the chance. Summer of 96, graduating in July gate opened again to my tunnel leading to my way out with my kids, light getting brighter again. I was hopeful. Bob around this time started losing weight, had a cough. At first I thought it's because he's not eating regularly, and his cough was because he smoked to much. Then the fevers from time to time, became concerning. When I graduated a friend from school asked me to house sit for a couple of weeks, she thought this would be a great way to get my kids and their dad together for awhile. Bob was happy to have a moment off the hot July streets and I was happy to have chance to feel like we were a family. That's when I really saw how much weight he had lost, how sick he really had become. I took him to a random clinic, they diagnosed him with Bronchitis, gave him some meds and sent him on his way. Two weeks went by, we laughed, we cried, we lived and tried. He went back to the streets and took the kids back to my parents, however we were hopeful. I was about to start my first job as a graduate nurse, the future was looking up. Chelsea would be starting kindergarten and Cody second grade, and in no time we would all be living in the same place, are own apartment. Yep everything seemed like it was falling into perfect place. I started my first day of orientation at UHS on the 9th floor General Medicine near the end of July of 96. Day of excitement and beginnings. Yeah beginnings and endings. Around 1:45 PM they rolled a patient up to the 9th floor isolation hall, my husband.........
The beginning of the end happened in August of 96 when Bob was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, TB had ravaged his body and took his weight from his usual 180 to 118, sunken eyes, and skeletal appearance to his 6 foot frame. Hep C was the least of his worries or mine.. Immediately I had to get us all tested for TB, that was difficult for Chelsea, took 4 people to hold her down to get a PPd placed, that she got from me. Thankfully we were all negative. Then came me getting tested for HIV, all the while I had to study for my boards. I took my NCLEX that month and I got the news of passing my boards the same day I got news that I was HIV negative, my first of many negatives. Bob kept saying he had not used any IV drugs since 1985, meaning I was exposed for over 10 years if he was correct. I'll never know the truth of where or when he truly became infected, and I suppose it doesn't matter now. Just grateful that I am negative to this day. Anyway...With the knowledge of me being HIV negative, I could at least spare my children from any more testing. Blessing truly it was. Bob was sent to the Texas Department for Infectious Diseases, basically the chest hospital. He was to have to be treated for a year, for he had disseminated TB. His treatment of his HIV was limited also at this time. In October of 96, HIV cocktails were introduced, a bright promising new treatments were becoming available, and people with AIDs were responding and some were getting better. However still many were dying. Bob obtained disability from the government, every penny helped, he obtained it fast secondary to how ill and close to death he was. When Bob was diagnosed I was told get his affairs in order, he will not make it past 6 months. Try getting your kids prepared at that age, it was difficult. How I was I to know it was just the beginning of preparing for his eventual death. Life as we began to know it continued. I was finally able to move out of my parents house in January of 97, and move Bob out of the chest hospital at that time. He was frail, still deathly under weight, but we had him home with us, he was off the streets, he was safe. After he moved in he was afraid to be near me, afraid I'd get sick, that's when he started sleeping on the couch, he was more comfortable there, hurt less too. My bed would remain empty for the most part for the rest of our married life. 6 months came and went and Bob lived, says it was the kids and me that kept him alive. I continued on working and still being the responsible adult as always. In the summer of 97 Bob started on the cocktail, and within months his viral load was undetectable, he could of been the poster boy for taking HIV meds and what they could do, he began gaining more weight, getting more energy back, while dealing with the side effects of the meds. He led himself believe that he was cured. Was able to get a job with a moving company and started talking about the future. He was going to go back to school, get his GED and get his journeyman's license, and be the man I wanted him to be.. Pipe dreams they really cloud things don't they.......He started drinking again, going out, and eventually I am sure used again. He also was not as compliant with his meds, which I did not know at the time, but I found out when my gut instinct kept at me. But of course when asked he'd say adamantly, I am taking them. He went to see his mom in 98, and while he was away, I found my bank account with multiple withdrawals, little deposits, and things missing. He came back, I did not pick him up from airport, it was raining, I had went over to a colleagues house the night before. Drank way to many whiskeys, and was way to mad at Bob. So I did not meet him at the airport, so he was angry at me when he charged into the apartment. Lesson learned don't piss off a woman hung over. I let fly with a lot of things, a lot of pent up frustrations, I was tired of holding it all in for the sake of family. So I confronted him, and when I confronted him about missing things, missing money, meds still being unrefilled, he as usual denied it all. I had, had enough, I asked him to leave. We stayed separated for about 6 months, he went and lived in some friends garage. I took my new separated self and sought comfort in the arms of another, temporary, unfulfilling, and well a waste of time. Although I needed it however to prove to myself, at the time, I could be attractive and desired by others, but it was an empty feeling really. The kids started missing their dad, sad that he was living in a garage and so I gave in and we reconciled. Again promises made, I'll change my ways, I'll stop drinking, I'll not take any money, I'll not pawn anything, blah, blah, blah....Blinders up, and life goes on. We decided we would buy a house, get out of the apartment, and forward foolishly I went. August of 2000 we moved into my current home, poorly built but it was ours and out of an apartment we went. Bob was working with a commercial plumbing company at this time, and I was beginning to get things in line to start back to school. Bought a new truck that went with the new car we had already gotten. Bob was healthy, going regularly to his doctor, was on new meds for his HIV, responding again remarkably well, drinking less and no drugs. We were closer as couple and as a family. Dog, cats, house, vehicles, jobs, yep life was looking up....In 2004 I was accepted to UT for my ADN to MSN with FNP program. I was ecstatic...Then Bob burst the bubble. He had lost his job, maxed out my credit cards, hid the statements, my bank statements as well, and went back to his old ways. I ended up losing my truck, but not my place at UT. I refused to not start school. I worked full time, school full time, provided for this family full time, and felt empty full time. In November of 2004 by mishap or miracle I became pregnant. Who is the father Bob asked, my mom asked, my friends asked. Everyone knows I was a safety girl, and yet here I was pregnant. Of course Bob was the father, and he knew it, and was immediately afraid for me and our unborn child. Afraid I was infected, and by the grace of God I wasn't. My mother could not understand how I would stay pregnant at the age of 41, how could I do this, embarrass them. She who had her last child at 39, whatever. I was elated, I loved this pregnancy, and this little boy more than life, way before he was born. Connor was born on July 27, 2005, another c-section, Bob again was captured by a tiny new heart. He seemed to change overnight with the need to take care of this tiny human. He gave his all for him. He tried to be the dad to Connor that he wasn't to Cody and Chelsea. He became the stay at home dad, took care of the house, the kids, and me. All was right in the world, I continued on with school and work and providing the funds for our daily existence. Like I said life was better, I finished school in summer of 2008 and started working with UT for Neurosurgery as an FNP in October of that year, yep I had finally made it to my professional goal. We were finally at a place where we were talking about what we would do for our silver anniversary coming up in a few years, what we planned for vacations and doing to the house, yep brightness to the road of happiness was shining again. Then two years later in October of 2010, darkness came again, I had to withdraw life support from the man that I had ran too 27 years ealier, the easiest thing to do, but the hardest to live with today. The last 5 years of Bob's life he gave to us, and the only one that gave him unconditional love in return, was Connor. For he would not ever know of the father that lied, stole, drank to much, did drugs, was arrested, was homeless, no he would not. He knew a man that loved him with all his heart. For Cody, Chelsea and myself we did forgive, we held on to the pain and always wondered when he was going to hurt us again with his lies. Sad thing to hold onto, when you think about it now. Bob told me two weeks before he died that my life would will be so much better without him, financially and emotionally, that Cody and Chelsea don't need him, and with Connor starting school he wouldn't need him as much either. I think he knew the end was near, I wish I did..He'd sing "you better kiss me, because you're going to miss me when I'm gone", and even with everything he put us through, the pain, the lies, the loss of trust, I do. I miss him as much today as I do the day I kissed his forehead goodbye and ran my fingers through his beautiful hair one last time, on that bright blue October morning. For with him gone, so was my balance at keeping all those old fears from my past at bay..To much noise in my head sometimes.. So much more has happened to me since his death. Breast cancer, yeah that I can handle, being a single mom, yeah I got that, life goes on. You keep breathing in and breathing out, standing upright, always moving forward.... Ahhhh finally to why I am starting this blogging journey, to free me...
Shall we continue to dance?
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