I was cranky today. There really wasn't any reason for it other than I was irresponsible last night and didn't go to bed early enough so I was short on sleep. I was a bit snappy with the kids, especially when I was trying to have a brief but light conversation with a girlfriend via telephone, while I had 2 large entities called Joey and Laura attached to my person.
After I hung up, I sat Joey down and told him, basically, that it's not nice or appropriate to become an overly large chunk of Velcro while I'm on the phone (of course, these weren't my exact words). He surprised me by responding, "were you talking to a friend, Mom?"
His question was surprising because Joey's a friendly child but tends to be somewhat aloof (ironically, this makes most other kids really want to be his friend). He loves being with kids he knows well, but he's usually just as content playing with me, Laura or by himself. He almost never talks about or mentions friends unless prompted, and even then, he rattles off only one or two names-usually of kids we have just seen.
So, out of curiosity I decided to drop the Velcro conversation (I think I had made my point, anyway) and see where this new conversation led us.
I told him that yes, I was talking to his Aunt Erin, who he knows is a special friend. To which he said, "You know Mom, I have a best friend" and before I could say anything, he spread his arms wide, hugged me and said "Mom, YOU are my best friend"
As you can imagine, my mood changed drastically and my heart melted.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
3 Little Birds
I know Hannah, Ryan and Abby are shining down on us. I can feel them sometimes, all around me. While I was pregnant with them, I often sang this song to them. It's a cute, peppy song by Bab Marley and at the time, I honestly believed it. I was wrong.
It's taken me many years to be able to say that while it's never going to be "all right" for me, now, every little thing is "alright" and, most times, even better...
"Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', ("This is my message to you:")
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you:"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!
"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
It's taken me many years to be able to say that while it's never going to be "all right" for me, now, every little thing is "alright" and, most times, even better...
"Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', ("This is my message to you:")
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you:"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!
"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Map. I'm All Over It.
The last few weeks have been interesting for me (for lack of a better word). So many feelings have surfaced for so many different reasons and I am having difficulty processing everything.
Several weeks ago, a woman I used to work with lost her son. He was a young adult and died suddenly from an aenurism. Although she and I didn't know each other well, she did know about Hannah, Ryan and Abby and she has since reached out to me-looking for hope, for support, for anything that will ease her pain. We have emailed back and forth a few times.
Shortly thereafter, a woman I do not know at all called me. Her BBG triplets were born in April at 23+ weeks and all three of them died shortly after their births. She is devastated and after months of struggling on her own, she finally pulled out the support list of phone numbers given to her by our local hospital and called me. We have been emailing on and off for a few weeks now.
Then, just last week, a childhood friend contacted me because her cousin (a girl I saw periodically growing up but didn't know well) lost a child at 24 weeks. She wanted to know if I would reach out to her because she is struggling so. And I did. And I'm glad I did because I know she felt isolated, lost, hurt, sad and confused and knowing that her feelings are normal has helped her tremendously.
Emailing with these women has been difficult for me in an odd way. I would have expected that all this sorrow would throw me back into the depths of my own grief, but it hasn't.When responding to some of the emails, I have had to go back into my own (written) journals to re-read how I felt so that I can respond with appropriate words for their individual stages of grief. While reading my own words, I have been curiously detached from the woman who wrote them. That woman is a stranger to me in so many ways and reading her words has made me much more aware of how far I have come in the past (almost) 6 years.
However, just today my sister-in-law gave birth to her third child, a healthy baby boy. I took my children over to the hospital to meet him and I was completely unprepared for the emotions that invaded my mind and heart. I had expected to walk into the room and feel nothing but overwhelming love for this beautiful child and joy for my brother and sister-in-law. I did not expect to also feel jealous, sad or lonely. I did not expect for my heart to ache so deeply for my babies who died or for any future babies that I will never have. I did not expect to feel such a strong maternal pull to wrap my arms around my two children, hold them close and cherish whatever baby-ness is left in their 4 and 2 year old minds and bodies.
But I did.
Why is it that near strangers can share their grief, pain and loss with me and I can empathize, understand and support them without having their grief become my grief but I can't simply cherish the birth of my brother and sister-in-laws' son without it bringing some pain?
I will be so happy when those people closest to me have moved beyond the pregnancy and baby stage. It makes me so sad that I couldn't walk into that hospital room and feel nothing but complete joy. Is this a long term effect of grief? Is it a flaw in my own personality? I really don't know...
Several weeks ago, a woman I used to work with lost her son. He was a young adult and died suddenly from an aenurism. Although she and I didn't know each other well, she did know about Hannah, Ryan and Abby and she has since reached out to me-looking for hope, for support, for anything that will ease her pain. We have emailed back and forth a few times.
Shortly thereafter, a woman I do not know at all called me. Her BBG triplets were born in April at 23+ weeks and all three of them died shortly after their births. She is devastated and after months of struggling on her own, she finally pulled out the support list of phone numbers given to her by our local hospital and called me. We have been emailing on and off for a few weeks now.
Then, just last week, a childhood friend contacted me because her cousin (a girl I saw periodically growing up but didn't know well) lost a child at 24 weeks. She wanted to know if I would reach out to her because she is struggling so. And I did. And I'm glad I did because I know she felt isolated, lost, hurt, sad and confused and knowing that her feelings are normal has helped her tremendously.
Emailing with these women has been difficult for me in an odd way. I would have expected that all this sorrow would throw me back into the depths of my own grief, but it hasn't.When responding to some of the emails, I have had to go back into my own (written) journals to re-read how I felt so that I can respond with appropriate words for their individual stages of grief. While reading my own words, I have been curiously detached from the woman who wrote them. That woman is a stranger to me in so many ways and reading her words has made me much more aware of how far I have come in the past (almost) 6 years.
However, just today my sister-in-law gave birth to her third child, a healthy baby boy. I took my children over to the hospital to meet him and I was completely unprepared for the emotions that invaded my mind and heart. I had expected to walk into the room and feel nothing but overwhelming love for this beautiful child and joy for my brother and sister-in-law. I did not expect to also feel jealous, sad or lonely. I did not expect for my heart to ache so deeply for my babies who died or for any future babies that I will never have. I did not expect to feel such a strong maternal pull to wrap my arms around my two children, hold them close and cherish whatever baby-ness is left in their 4 and 2 year old minds and bodies.
But I did.
Why is it that near strangers can share their grief, pain and loss with me and I can empathize, understand and support them without having their grief become my grief but I can't simply cherish the birth of my brother and sister-in-laws' son without it bringing some pain?
I will be so happy when those people closest to me have moved beyond the pregnancy and baby stage. It makes me so sad that I couldn't walk into that hospital room and feel nothing but complete joy. Is this a long term effect of grief? Is it a flaw in my own personality? I really don't know...
Monday, August 17, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, June 29, 2009
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...
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...
Thursday, June 4, 2009
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.
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.
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