Choices

(if you haven't a clue what this post is about, please read the post preceding it!)

What a week! All the fears and trepidation I had regarding my conference were completely unfounded. I was overwhelmed instead by how the community embraced and supported me and how readily they accepted me for who I am and where I am at. There were one or two special friends from long ago with whom I shared the reasons for my sudden departure from the field, my 8 year absence from the bi-annual conferences and my diminished skills but the other 2,000+ interpreters and Deaf people simply saw me as a woman who was taking a hiatus from work to raise my children and they supported that role.

I spent an entire week completely immersed in American Sign Language. Yes, I was rusty at first but it didn't take long for me to have full comprehension and participation of and in my surroundings. By the end of the week, I was understanding even the subtlest nuances of the language, laughing at jokes and I felt like I belonged to this wonderful community again. And I liked it. And I realized how much I have missed it.

After a week long conference, I realized that I will go back to work again some day. For now, I am not ready to go back on a regular, full time basis. I'm not even sure I'm ready to go back on a part-time regular basis. I enjoy my steady, one night a week assignment but I also recognize that to hone my skills again and to stay connected to an important part of who I am, I need to add an occasional all day job here and there. My goal now is to find a nice balance that works for me, R and the kids.

Because for now, although I love being an interpreter, I love being a stay-at-home mom more. And on so many levels, I'm grateful that I have this choice.

A Bad Case of the Jitters

Languages grow, develop and change and the only way to stay current is to use the language regularly. I haven't used American Sign Language (ASL) regularly since Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born. As a matter of fact, other than the few signs I used with my children, I haven't really used it at all.

Recently, I started working again one night a week. It's an intimate assignment in an arena that I'm comfortable with and although I was rusty at first, I believe that I am doing a good job and providing a valuable service to the consumers of that job. For me, the intimacy of the assignment makes it safe.

When I worked full time, my work was very important to me. I was a skilled professional and a highly ethical interpreter. I was confident with my role in the profession and was involved and committed. My reputation was excellent on a local and state-wide level.

Then life fell apart and I took a hiatus from the world for a while. I slowly stepped back into life as I climbed out of the pits of grief, infertility and pregnancy. However, my desire to regain a place in the professional world has been half-hearted, at best. I love what I do, but I love staying home and being a Mom more. So, I have been happy with my one assignment a week because it allows me a chance to keep the doors open but it barely interferes with my family life. I know my skills are not even close to where they were 7 or 8 years ago, but I also know the reasons why.

However, in less than 24 hours I will step into a convention hall for a week long national conference for interpreters. I will see thousands of interpreters and Deaf people-many whom I know but haven't seen in years and most do not know where my life journey has taken me. All they will know is that my skills are not where they used to be but they won't know why.

To say that I am nervous is an understatement. My head is filled with questions of "what if" (what if I don't understand what's happening? What if I look stupid? What if I'm judged?) and I can't help but wonder how the week will pan out. I am hoping it will fly by and be full of opportunities for learning, growing and socializing but, again, there are those "what if's"-what if it drags by and I feel lost and insecure?

This is the last big hurdle I've yet to face in my post-Hannah, Ryan and Abby life. I've skipped the previous conferences because it wasn't time yet and I know it's time now. But I'm still petrified.

longing...

Babies. I love them. My own baby is really a toddler now and soon she'll leave that and become a little girl. Although she is still a baby, she is no longer a infant-baby.

Our lives are no longer run by nap schedules or thrown of kilter by our own sleep deprivation. We are doing things now: Rod and I have date nights, I have spent time with girlfriends of my own and as a family, we're able to go places and, well, do things. This summer has just started and already it's been so much fun for us. I'm happy with my stage in life. I truly am.

However, whenever I hear of another friend who is pregnant again, I feel a longing-a pull-for another baby of my own. I know that when my sister in law has her #3 (he is due at the end of August) I will hold him in my arms and the love will be only slightly stronger than the longing. Yet, I know I will never have another baby-it's too difficult for us on so many levels and even if I really, really wanted to go through it all again, I know that R is done. His heart isn't in it anymore and he's ready to live life. When we are trying or I am pregnant, we don't live life, we survive it. We did that for too long and neither of us want to go back to that stress again.

And I'm okay with it. I really am.
Except sometimes...

So Long Ago...

Yesterday, I was in picking up my new contact lenses. I am friendly with the owner and we were chatting as I was looking at the new glasses styles~they are so fun now-pretty colors and funky shapes. Not anything like the tortoise shell frames I have.

I was having fun trying all the styles on and found a great bright pink pair that I love. I asked her to look in my chart and tell me if my prescription has changed since the last time I purchased glasses. It hasn't.

"Drag" I said, "my old glasses are so boring but I can't justify purchasing new ones right now , especially since I rarely wear them"

She surprised me by saying, "you bought your last pair of glasses in Winter '04. You were in such a different place, emotionally, that you didn't even look at anything fun or funky. You just wanted to get a pair of glasses and go home. You really have come a long way"

It seems like such a long time ago-it was such a different life. I was such a different person.

My only grandparent who is still alive is my Dad's mom. Of my four grandparents, she is the one I was least close to growing up and throughout my adulthood. It's no family secret that she favors my sister over my brother and me. And so, even though she lives 10 minutes from me, I don't often think to invite her over or spend time with her. Both my brother and I tried for years, but we became tired of being compared to our sister and eventually our invitations waned until they finally dwindled down to once or twice a year.

Less then two weeks ago, my Aunt died after a long battle with breast cancer. I loved my Aunt, my Dad's only sister. She never had biological children but she was a fantastic step-mom to my Uncles two boys and she was a great Aunt to me, Ed and Amber. I will miss her.

My Dad called me this week and asked me to reach out to my Grandma: "No one in our family can know what she is going through, except you. It might be helpful to her to have someone to talk to". His words brought tears to my eyes for my Grandmother and for me.

But, I had already called my Grandma and invited her to dinner because even though we aren't close, I now feel a connection to her. I was so touched to learn that my Dad recognizes this connection, but I know that my Grandmother doesn't. While she was sad for me when Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, she is from a different generation where people did not talk about babies dying. They did not hold funeral services or take photos of a baby after s/he had died. I don't fault her for that and I realize that our situations are different. I can not imagine what it feels like to come home to the house you raised your children in, knowing that one of them will never step foot in that house again. I do not know what it feels like to look at a lifetime of photos and think about a lifetime of memories that must bring both comfort and horrific sadness. I have promised myself that because I probably do understand best what she is going through, I will make the effort to reach out to her as often as I can and to listen to whatever she wants to say and that I would do so without ever saying "I know how you feel". I recognize that even if I do, she wouldn't understand how I could and it wouldn't be helpful for her to hear a comment like that. I can't force her to feel a connection of loss that she just doesn't see.

So, Rod and I let her talk and we listened as she talked about her feelings during the funeral service, how she could imagine my Aunt dancing while the organist played "Amazing Grace" (he started with a slow, beautiful beat which changed pace and ended in a breathtaking jazz rendition) and how thoughtful my Aunt and Uncles' friends are. Her mind was wandering as she talked, and eventually, she began sharing about her feelings of helplessness towards the end; how she felt, holding her daughter's hand, knowing she was going to die. Rod and I silently nodded and continued to listen. I felt tears in my eyes and when I looked over at Rod I could see his pain~the pain he felt, perhaps for my Grandma, but certainly for himself. Since I was unable to be there, it was Rod who sat, holding Hannah and then Ryan, knowing they would die and knowing he couldn't' do anything about it.

I knew this would be difficult but I didn't expect that listening to her would take me right back to the labor and delivery room that we lived in for so many days-the feelings of grief washing over me so strongly. I tried so hard to listen to her but my thoughts kept going back to my own grief, my own feelings of inadequacy, my own desperation to make sense of something that makes no sense.

I guess I thought I could understand her grief over losing her daughter without feeling my own grief over losing Hannah, Ryan and Abby. I now know I can't.

After Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born and died, I discovered the world of "on-line" and *met* so many women whom I've connected with. I've shared some of the most personal thoughts and feelings I've ever had with these women and together, we navigated through the tangles of our grief.

In the beginning of my grief and recovery journey, these women were my life-line. As I already mentioned, I shared thoughts and feelings with them that were so intimate, so painful and so raw that only another woman who was experiencing them would understand. Our grief was so new and in a way, we clung to each other with the hope that we could help each other find our way in a world which seemed like it had no way. And although it brought great sadness to know that they also felt such heart-wrenching grief, there was a comfort in knowing that my feelings were "normal" and that I wasn't alone. I came to know these women in ways that I have never known anyone before, or since.

Through the years, most of these relationships have since faded. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the women who were so important to me at such a difficult time in my life. Are they happy? (I like to believe that they are). Have they come to a place of quiet peace with their loss? (I hope that the have). I also wonder if they ever think of me, of Hannah, Ryan and Abby, the way that I think of them and their babies. Because there are still times that I do think them. I cannot look back on the last 5 years without thinking about them~people whom I've never met, but who have touched my life deeply.

I am sad for all these babies and children who never had a chance to experience all the joys, heartaches and wonders of life. But I am also eternally grateful for them. Their brief existence in our world helped bring their mothers and me together. And so tonight I honor all the babies whose lives have touched mine, through the strength and love so freely given to me by their mothers. And I thank these special women for allowing me to grieve openly and shamelessly when I needed too. Your support has helped me to heal.

~~
To: Julia, Scott and Jeremiah; Trevor and Shane; Molly and Joseph; Edward, Olivia and Liliana; West, Rebeca and Keating; Mallory; Liam; and Georgia. Thank you. Although we have never met, in my own special way, I love you.

Second Chances

Mom went for a second opinion with a Pulmonologist who does nothing but specialize in Interstitial Lung Diseases and Pulmonary Fibrosis. Dad went with her and they promised to call as soon as they were ready, but I also knew that it may take a few hours for the assessment and then they may need to process the information they heard, so I tried to stay busy and not think about it.

I knew that if this doctor diagnosed Pulmonary Fibrosis too, then it would be confirmed that this is what she has. I was scared to answer the phone but also couldn't get to it fast enough when it did ring. My heart was in my throat when I heard my Mom's voice because it sounded like she had been crying. And she had.

However, her tears weren't from sadness, they were from hope. This doctor is confident that she does NOT have PF. Her most recent CT Scan showed some improvement with her lungs and even though it wasn't drastic, improvement does NOT happen with PF. He switched up her medications, is sending her to Pulmonary Rehabilitation and wants to see her back in 6 weeks with a new CT Scan. He doesn't know what she does have and wants to give her more time to recover from the Pneumonia before probing further to find out what the underlying issue(s) is/are. She is still very sick and we still don't know what is wrong with her, which is scary. But knowing it's not PF is a huge relief.

As a family, we still have a long battle ahead of us, but I know that we will all buckle down and do whatever we can to help my Mom get through this. Her new doctor thinks there's a chance she may be able to reduce her oxygen levels for most of her activity and daily life. There's a chance she won't, but more importantly, there is a chance she will and that's what we are all focused on right now.