They're scary. And hard to be in. And hard to watch your baby fighting for his life in. They're not set up for small children. They have to try to use an adult blood pressure cuff until the fire man first responder guy gets there and has actual paediatric sized equipment and knowledge.
So the beginning. Well, not quite the beginning. The beginning happened when he was 4 months old. But the beginning of THIS story (oh please let there not be many more stories after this) starts with our Saturday Christmas celebration. Matthews parents are snow birds, so we have Christmas in November every year. That was Saturday. As usual for Christmas supper we had lasagna (strange, yes, but also delicious.) and there was Cesar salad and garlic bread smothered in butter and all sorts of other wonderful treats that pose a big big threat to my little man's life. Matt's mom had made Bravo his own pasta dish, but I guess there was just too much around. Matt and I were being careful and cautious, but not everybody else there necessarily realised just how serious Bravo's allergies are. That horrible September day was over 2 years ago and Matt and I are really the only ones who have the memories of that burned in our heads.
Anyways. Bravo was eating a bit and then going to play and came back to the table to nibble and then he came and sat on my lap and had a little bit to eat. Then he threw up. And not just a little bit. It kept coming. More and more and more. My pants were soaked. My shirt was soaked. I could have rung them out. The chair pad was soaked, the floor was a giant puddle, some of the projectile vomit landed in a drinking glass and filled it half way. My plate was full, the table was covered. I thought there was a lot of vomit when he was 4 months. Nope. THIS was a lot of vomit. Right away my mind went to "what did you eat??". I asked if he wanted a bath, he whimpered yes. We got him in the tub (and Matt dug out the Christmas pyjamas I had just received so that I could be less vomit-covered) and then the hives started. All down his chest and back and face and arms. I went to call health links. I think I got about 2 sentences out with her when Matt and Bravo came into the room and Matt was trying to tell me that Bravo was wheezing. All I noticed was Bravos face was swelling. So I hung up on health links, told my mother in law to call 911 and I got the epi pen out. Nobody prepares you for that. For holding your shaking scared baby in your lap while you stick them with a needle. I had been taught how to use them, but my mind went blank. Matthew reminded me what to do and I did it. He screamed. About a million years later the ambulance finally showed up (they say it was 9-11 minutes, but I don't think I believe them. Do you know how LONG 9 -11 minutes is???) and we met them outside and got Bravo in. He looped back into anaphalctic shock and they gave him more epinephrine. And then a lot of Ventolin and oxygen to force his airways open. And then we rushed to the hospital and went into the same horrible room as last time. Matt and I were terrified, not just of what was happening currently, but of all the memories flooding back of that horrible night 2 years ago. Thankfully there wasn't the flurry of activity that had previously happened in the resuscitation room. They were just making sure he was stabilized before we went to the observation room for the next 6 hours.
The next 6 hours were long, but not as long as that last hour had been. Bravo went crazy from a combination of too many drugs and up way way way too late. he didn't go to sleep until 2 in the morning when we got home. He was climbing the walls in the hospital room and the only 5 minutes he sat still was when a kind nurse gave him a Popsicle to encourage small sips of liquid.
The ambulance still shocks me. I'm glad they were there. I'm so very thankful we live in a time and place where there is epi-pens and ambulances and paramedics and Ventolin and needles and IVs. Or I would not have my beautiful Bravo with me. But seriously. They had the heart tracing machine that they said only works 50% of the time. Fantastic. They had 1 (ONE!!!) paediatric IV starter. So they had to make sure they didn't mess it up or they couldn't have given him his much needed IV. The first two paramedics had no clue what to do with a 2 year old. It wasn't until a fire first responder got there with specalized training in small kids that they were able to really help him. Why do they not have paediatric equipment on each and every ambulance??? And I tell you, I thought that 2 year olds were big. Nope. When you see a tiny 2 year old strapped to an ambulance bed meant for adults with his eyes rolling back into his head while getting another shot of epinephrine you realize just how tiny a 2 year old really is. I sang to him and held his hand. He was a trooper. He even didn't fight the mask because I told him it made him sound like Darth Vader.
I'm still struggling to process these events, but that's what happened. Merry Christmas.
Wednesday 30 November 2011
Monday 28 November 2011
hello baby belly, good bye brain
As my belly grows, my brain and it's abilities are shrinking. Which is a bad thing because I still have 27/28 weeks to go. I'm in trouble.
On top of being a petty criminal there are many things that have gone amiss lately.
top 5
1. brand new block of cheese in the cupboard
2. tried to unlock my house with my van key. And swore really loudly when it wouldn't work thinking that our door was busted.
3. went to put Charlie to nap and it wasn't until I tucked him in that I realized that he doesn't have blankets to tuck him in. And he sleeps in a crib not a toddler bed.... wait a minute... wrong room.
4. Wrote down a time and date for SOMETHING on a piece of paper. Only thing, I have no idea what that something is. So unless I figure it out I'm missing something on November 29th at 2:00pm. I've already called all the doctors to see if it was for one of us. Nope.
5. I made some pizza pops for lunch last week (yup, my stolen ones) and was really confused when i came back 2 minutes later and they were still frozen. Turns out you need to press "START" for the thing to turn on. Who invented these complicated machines anyways?.
there are a lot more. Involving things with the oven that are similar to #5, laundry in weird places, thermometers frozen (they don't work so well after that, those fancy digital ones. whoops.) but I think I've made my point.
I am so seriously in trouble for the next 27 weeks.
On top of being a petty criminal there are many things that have gone amiss lately.
top 5
1. brand new block of cheese in the cupboard
2. tried to unlock my house with my van key. And swore really loudly when it wouldn't work thinking that our door was busted.
3. went to put Charlie to nap and it wasn't until I tucked him in that I realized that he doesn't have blankets to tuck him in. And he sleeps in a crib not a toddler bed.... wait a minute... wrong room.
4. Wrote down a time and date for SOMETHING on a piece of paper. Only thing, I have no idea what that something is. So unless I figure it out I'm missing something on November 29th at 2:00pm. I've already called all the doctors to see if it was for one of us. Nope.
5. I made some pizza pops for lunch last week (yup, my stolen ones) and was really confused when i came back 2 minutes later and they were still frozen. Turns out you need to press "START" for the thing to turn on. Who invented these complicated machines anyways?.
there are a lot more. Involving things with the oven that are similar to #5, laundry in weird places, thermometers frozen (they don't work so well after that, those fancy digital ones. whoops.) but I think I've made my point.
I am so seriously in trouble for the next 27 weeks.
Thursday 24 November 2011
confessions on a Thursday afternoon
My name is Chrissy Jennings and I am a criminal.
Ok, not like a bad guy criminal who smoke ups and shoots people and skulks in the darkness. But a criminal none the less. Parenthood and it's accompanying stupidity has caused me to be a bad person, at least in the eyes of large supermarket and home improvement chains.
Prior to becoming a parent I shoplifted one thing. It was in grade 4. A pack of purple halls. What a lame thing to steal!! I felt so guilty though that I went to a different store, bought a pack of purple halls, and reverse shoplifted at the red rooster. Once I also ate half an ice cream sandwich at the back of the store before putting it back in the case. Also- grade 4. Not a good time of life for me apparently......
Since becoming a parent I have stolen: electrical tape, a 2L of ginger ale, and most recently a family size Rice Krispies and a large box of pepperoni pizza pops.
The electrical tape was shortly after Alpha was born. He was maybe 4 months and I had to run down the the local home improvement box store and buy some paint and other things. Alpha was getting cranky, I let him play with the electrical tape, he fell asleep, the tape fell to the bottom of his car seat bunting bag thingy and wasn't discovered until the next day. Whoops. The ginger ale was when Charlie was about.... lets say 3 months old. Matthew had a brutal flu, it was so bad that he refused to watch even one kid while I ran to the store to grab a few things. I was cranky, also sick, feeling overwhelmed, and had 3 super miserable 4:00 kids with me. I grabbed what I needed and didn't discover the ginger ale tucked into the top of the cart beside the car seat until Alpha and Bravo were in and buckled in their car seats. And Charlie was having an apocalyptic meltdown. I was NOT going back in. I've been meaning to pay for that ginger ale since, but never remember when I'm there.
Then there was last week. The older two were and Granny's. I just had the baby (and Delta who has officially made me stupider than I've ever been in my entire life). I rushed around, spent a remarkable $362 on who knows what and then rushed to the car because it was 20 minutes past Charlie's nap time and past his lunch time and he was MAD. it didn't help that we had a dumb and exorbitantly slow cashier. Then after Charlie was in his seat and I had unloaded the top of the cart I noticed the pizza pops and Rice Krispies. Shoot. Seriously though, the line took me 45 minutes to get through. And those people are crazy about checking to see if you have anything on the bottom of the cart (and now I know why...) but not this time. So I guiltily put them in the car, returned my cart, seriously thought about leaving my dollar inside for penance (but didn't) and then drove home. And ate pizza pops for lunch. I would tell myself that i would tell them next time that I forgot to pay, but chances of that happening are about -12%.
Sigh.
I SWEAR I used to be a good person. Watch out: I'm one stop short of cocaine and guns.
Ok, not like a bad guy criminal who smoke ups and shoots people and skulks in the darkness. But a criminal none the less. Parenthood and it's accompanying stupidity has caused me to be a bad person, at least in the eyes of large supermarket and home improvement chains.
Prior to becoming a parent I shoplifted one thing. It was in grade 4. A pack of purple halls. What a lame thing to steal!! I felt so guilty though that I went to a different store, bought a pack of purple halls, and reverse shoplifted at the red rooster. Once I also ate half an ice cream sandwich at the back of the store before putting it back in the case. Also- grade 4. Not a good time of life for me apparently......
Since becoming a parent I have stolen: electrical tape, a 2L of ginger ale, and most recently a family size Rice Krispies and a large box of pepperoni pizza pops.
The electrical tape was shortly after Alpha was born. He was maybe 4 months and I had to run down the the local home improvement box store and buy some paint and other things. Alpha was getting cranky, I let him play with the electrical tape, he fell asleep, the tape fell to the bottom of his car seat bunting bag thingy and wasn't discovered until the next day. Whoops. The ginger ale was when Charlie was about.... lets say 3 months old. Matthew had a brutal flu, it was so bad that he refused to watch even one kid while I ran to the store to grab a few things. I was cranky, also sick, feeling overwhelmed, and had 3 super miserable 4:00 kids with me. I grabbed what I needed and didn't discover the ginger ale tucked into the top of the cart beside the car seat until Alpha and Bravo were in and buckled in their car seats. And Charlie was having an apocalyptic meltdown. I was NOT going back in. I've been meaning to pay for that ginger ale since, but never remember when I'm there.
Then there was last week. The older two were and Granny's. I just had the baby (and Delta who has officially made me stupider than I've ever been in my entire life). I rushed around, spent a remarkable $362 on who knows what and then rushed to the car because it was 20 minutes past Charlie's nap time and past his lunch time and he was MAD. it didn't help that we had a dumb and exorbitantly slow cashier. Then after Charlie was in his seat and I had unloaded the top of the cart I noticed the pizza pops and Rice Krispies. Shoot. Seriously though, the line took me 45 minutes to get through. And those people are crazy about checking to see if you have anything on the bottom of the cart (and now I know why...) but not this time. So I guiltily put them in the car, returned my cart, seriously thought about leaving my dollar inside for penance (but didn't) and then drove home. And ate pizza pops for lunch. I would tell myself that i would tell them next time that I forgot to pay, but chances of that happening are about -12%.
Sigh.
I SWEAR I used to be a good person. Watch out: I'm one stop short of cocaine and guns.
Wednesday 23 November 2011
thankful- for a really good day
Alpha and bravo woke up on the happiest side of bed this morning. They both came down smiling and singing then sat at the table and Alpha made his own jam toast and both just sat calmly and nicely and ate. Charlie woke up shortly after and sat in his chair with jam toast that Alpha made him and a grated pear the bravo picked out for him. Then the two older ones went and picked out their clothes and got dressed as independently as they each know how and put their dishes in the sink and clothes in the laundry with no prompting. Then they watched cartoons for 5 minutes (and got along!) until we were ready to go to playgroup. And at playgroup they were perfect little angels who said please and thank you and they shared and took turns and washed their hands and ate snack like humans and then left as soon as I said "time to go". We were off to the chiropractors, where they sat calmly and coloured (let me insert here that Alpha has NEVER EVER EVER sat calmly and coloured in his whole entire life) and didn't even fight over who got to sit in the red chair. Then after Charlie and I got adjusted (Delta is doing a number on my poor tired back) they left again super calmly and easily then we got take-out from burger king and sat in the basement and watched smurfs and ate super calmly and neatly and not spilly-spilly disasters while the merry maids that my mom gifted us cleaned my kitchen (feeling weird and guilty about somebody else cleaning my mess, but whatever). Then they played "hide the penguin" (not actually, for once, a game about penises, but a game involving hiding the toy penguins from BK) and then promptly went to their rooms because it was rest time. Charlie was also calm throughout the morning, though a bit POd because I messed up his nap time.
holy crap.
Who replaced my children with.... humans?? Who know how to behave?? And don't freak out over nothing??? Today I feel like a fourth baby will be OK.
But probably don't talk to me tomorrow when my good kids are replaced by crazed monsters. Because for each action there is an equal and opposite reaction, right??
Anyways- I've been feeling pretty low and down and run dry. So it was super great that this morning I had the perfect children. SO today I am thankful for the days when all ducks (children, whatever) line up and the day goes well.
holy crap.
Who replaced my children with.... humans?? Who know how to behave?? And don't freak out over nothing??? Today I feel like a fourth baby will be OK.
But probably don't talk to me tomorrow when my good kids are replaced by crazed monsters. Because for each action there is an equal and opposite reaction, right??
Anyways- I've been feeling pretty low and down and run dry. So it was super great that this morning I had the perfect children. SO today I am thankful for the days when all ducks (children, whatever) line up and the day goes well.
Tuesday 15 November 2011
About me
So I'm going to write things about me. Chrissy jennings. Not that anybody (at all) cares but just because I feel like it.
1. My name is not Chrissy Jennings, but we've covered that before. I like having a fake name. It makes me feel..... special. Or really dorky. And really sneaky when I tell the too skinny girl in the store that my name is Chrissy but it's totally not. And then I just get my happy "I'm so sneaky" smile on and the chick thinks I actually like the dress that makes me look terrible and washed out and 75 pounds heavier than I actually am.
2. I'm awkward and shy and stupid around people and don't know how social skills work. I make comments to little old ladies who are being... interfering.... like "oh go stuff it you old bat" before realizing that my mouth actually opened and words actually came out instead of it being the inside thought it was supposed to be. I try to hide that I'm awkward and shy and don't know how to be around people, but it's really really hard. And sometimes I fail. Badly.
3. I like to knit. And I especially like to knit things that have to do with food. Because it's funny. I think most food things are funny.
4. Linked to number three is the person I am most jealous of in this world, Saxton Freyman whose job it is to make stupid things out of food and then take pictures of them.
Like those. And I own every book he put out plus some playing cards and I think 4 years of his calendars. Because I love him. And i wish I had done that first.
5. I know lots of people think their husbands are the best. And maybe they're right. but Matthew is the very very best for me. I don't know why he loves me, but he does. He loves me like cake, and that's a lot. And I love him like cake, too.
6. I also know everybody thinks their kids are the cutest. And they're wrong. Because mine are. Well, I've seem some freaking cute little girls at Alpha's play school. And they're the cutest girls I've ever seen. But mine are the cutest boys. Maybe because they all look ecaxtly the same and there's extra cutenss involved when there are duplicates- especially three little tiny people that have heads shaped kind of like lego men.. I love them more than bacon. And that's a lot, too. Because cake and bacon are probably my two most favourite foods in the whole world.
7. My first love is George Clooney, circa Return of the Killer Tomatoes and Sisters.
He's still freaking hot now. I love him ALMOST as much as bacon and have since I was 12. And now I'm 32. I think 20 years classifies as true love. He broke my heart when he got in that car and died from the car bomb. Poor Falconer.
8. I regularly watch Top Gun and I regulalry cry while doing so. You think after all this time Goose would know about the jet wash and STAY AWAY. But nope, into the jet wash they go, spin spin crash and then he dies. Oh- who's up there? (the only correct answer is Cougar and Merlin adn Maverik and Goose.)
9. I like car racing movies. and heist-y movies. And for some reason people have not figured out that Edward Norton is evil. NEVER TRUST EDWARD NORTON, PEOPLE!!!! He is just trying to get all the loot for himself.
10. My fvourite time of day is nap time when all three babies are in their rooms and I get to do nothing. My least favourite time of day is 4:30 when everybody goes crazy and make me want it to be bedtime.
11. I like fall the best. It smells good, has no bugs, has crunchy leaves, doesn't make my face swell all gross, lets me wear sweaters and sneakers, and is just the pretiest.
12. I used to like winter becasue I have a nice warm home and hot choclate and books and baths and I can watch the cold world from my warm blanket on the couch. But then I had kids and now I am burried in a huge heap of mis-matched mittens (seriously, where are all the left hand mittens????) and snow pants and parkas and boots and toques and socks and scarves and some how I'm supposed to find time in the day to dress three small people in all of it to get outside at the time of year when the days are shortest. It's cruelty. It now takes an hour to get all of my small people peed and dressed and booted and out the door. And that's when I usually realize I'm still wearing pajamas and haven't brushed my hair. Or teeth. I hate winter now. And I can't wait for the day when my small people can put on their own snow suits and I can get back to liking it.
13. I don't care about salt but I am a sugar junky. Matthew though loves him some salt and I've started to veer ever so slightly to that side, but not too far.
14. If I got to eat any take-out food I wanted it would be Chinese food every single time. But that's not often becuase it would kill Bravo, and well, I like him even more than Chinese food. And again, that's saying a lot.
Ok. 14 things seems like a nice round number. The end.
wait.
15. I'm really really bad at spelling and even worse at typing. I mean really bad. And right now spell check isn't working so it's not my sault... see?? Fault that this post is going to be hard to read. Not my fault at all. Blame it on the few year period in Alberta that the school division I went to decided to try a new approach to spelling "let's not correct kids spelling... just teach them to read and write and we'll woryy about the spelling later". Then in grade 4 I switched divisions and they expected me to already know how to spell so it just never got dealt with. The sheer amount of times I don't write the word I want to because I don't know how to spell it and then I settle for a less appropriate word is astounding. And computers weren't mandatory in school- so I seriously suck at typing.
Ok. That's all now. 15 is a nice round nuemerhb (see???) too.
1. My name is not Chrissy Jennings, but we've covered that before. I like having a fake name. It makes me feel..... special. Or really dorky. And really sneaky when I tell the too skinny girl in the store that my name is Chrissy but it's totally not. And then I just get my happy "I'm so sneaky" smile on and the chick thinks I actually like the dress that makes me look terrible and washed out and 75 pounds heavier than I actually am.
2. I'm awkward and shy and stupid around people and don't know how social skills work. I make comments to little old ladies who are being... interfering.... like "oh go stuff it you old bat" before realizing that my mouth actually opened and words actually came out instead of it being the inside thought it was supposed to be. I try to hide that I'm awkward and shy and don't know how to be around people, but it's really really hard. And sometimes I fail. Badly.
3. I like to knit. And I especially like to knit things that have to do with food. Because it's funny. I think most food things are funny.
4. Linked to number three is the person I am most jealous of in this world, Saxton Freyman whose job it is to make stupid things out of food and then take pictures of them.
Like those. And I own every book he put out plus some playing cards and I think 4 years of his calendars. Because I love him. And i wish I had done that first.
5. I know lots of people think their husbands are the best. And maybe they're right. but Matthew is the very very best for me. I don't know why he loves me, but he does. He loves me like cake, and that's a lot. And I love him like cake, too.
6. I also know everybody thinks their kids are the cutest. And they're wrong. Because mine are. Well, I've seem some freaking cute little girls at Alpha's play school. And they're the cutest girls I've ever seen. But mine are the cutest boys. Maybe because they all look ecaxtly the same and there's extra cutenss involved when there are duplicates- especially three little tiny people that have heads shaped kind of like lego men.. I love them more than bacon. And that's a lot, too. Because cake and bacon are probably my two most favourite foods in the whole world.
7. My first love is George Clooney, circa Return of the Killer Tomatoes and Sisters.
He's still freaking hot now. I love him ALMOST as much as bacon and have since I was 12. And now I'm 32. I think 20 years classifies as true love. He broke my heart when he got in that car and died from the car bomb. Poor Falconer.
8. I regularly watch Top Gun and I regulalry cry while doing so. You think after all this time Goose would know about the jet wash and STAY AWAY. But nope, into the jet wash they go, spin spin crash and then he dies. Oh- who's up there? (the only correct answer is Cougar and Merlin adn Maverik and Goose.)
9. I like car racing movies. and heist-y movies. And for some reason people have not figured out that Edward Norton is evil. NEVER TRUST EDWARD NORTON, PEOPLE!!!! He is just trying to get all the loot for himself.
10. My fvourite time of day is nap time when all three babies are in their rooms and I get to do nothing. My least favourite time of day is 4:30 when everybody goes crazy and make me want it to be bedtime.
11. I like fall the best. It smells good, has no bugs, has crunchy leaves, doesn't make my face swell all gross, lets me wear sweaters and sneakers, and is just the pretiest.
12. I used to like winter becasue I have a nice warm home and hot choclate and books and baths and I can watch the cold world from my warm blanket on the couch. But then I had kids and now I am burried in a huge heap of mis-matched mittens (seriously, where are all the left hand mittens????) and snow pants and parkas and boots and toques and socks and scarves and some how I'm supposed to find time in the day to dress three small people in all of it to get outside at the time of year when the days are shortest. It's cruelty. It now takes an hour to get all of my small people peed and dressed and booted and out the door. And that's when I usually realize I'm still wearing pajamas and haven't brushed my hair. Or teeth. I hate winter now. And I can't wait for the day when my small people can put on their own snow suits and I can get back to liking it.
13. I don't care about salt but I am a sugar junky. Matthew though loves him some salt and I've started to veer ever so slightly to that side, but not too far.
14. If I got to eat any take-out food I wanted it would be Chinese food every single time. But that's not often becuase it would kill Bravo, and well, I like him even more than Chinese food. And again, that's saying a lot.
Ok. 14 things seems like a nice round number. The end.
wait.
15. I'm really really bad at spelling and even worse at typing. I mean really bad. And right now spell check isn't working so it's not my sault... see?? Fault that this post is going to be hard to read. Not my fault at all. Blame it on the few year period in Alberta that the school division I went to decided to try a new approach to spelling "let's not correct kids spelling... just teach them to read and write and we'll woryy about the spelling later". Then in grade 4 I switched divisions and they expected me to already know how to spell so it just never got dealt with. The sheer amount of times I don't write the word I want to because I don't know how to spell it and then I settle for a less appropriate word is astounding. And computers weren't mandatory in school- so I seriously suck at typing.
Ok. That's all now. 15 is a nice round nuemerhb (see???) too.
Monday 14 November 2011
Bravo's allergies
I'm both excited and terrified to have Charlie's and Bravo's allergy appointments coming up in a month. I'm excited because I'll get to find out if Bravos allergies are decreasing even a little bit. I KNOW he hasn't outgrown them, but to just see the numbers on the RAST test go down would be a huge joy. I'm terrified of that not happening though. And I'm nervous as... I don't know as what, but I'm super nervous about Charlie's testing. I've been a crazy paranoid crazy person with worrying about him having allergies so he hasn't had a single bite of anything Bravo is allergic to. Not because I think that's a GOOD thing to do, but because a)allergy people have no idea what the best response is to avoid allergies in a child with a strong family history and b)I'm NOT learning the hard way again. The hard way sucked.
Which leads me to this post. The long over due post about how we discovered Bravos allergies. A lot of you know most or parts of the story. But I've never really gotten into all the details. Because it's hard to write out, it's hard to talk about or think about. That day was a bad one. And when I think about it I remember just how close we were to losing him and then my head spins and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't help but think of the "what ifs". What if we hadn't gotten there in time, what if we were that 5 minutes later, what if they couldn't get the IV in, what if there was a super long wait at triage like there normally is, what if he didn't make it- our lives would be so much worse.
So.
Allergies.
Bravo was a rough nurser. Well, lets be honest. Bravo was a rough baby. It took FOREVER for him to learn how to latch like a normal child. I think it was 12 weeks before he latched properly and stayed there. It was pretty bad. But he had finally started to latch and nurse properly. And then my supply started to decline. and then it entered a full crash. And he was hungry and screaming and freaking out. And I was out of pumped milk to give him in a bottle. He INSISTED in having a bottle before bed. So I gave him some formula, just normal enfamil. And he got gassy and miserable. He happened to have a doctors appointment so I mentioned it to her and she gave me a can of soy formula and said some babies just don't tolerate normal formula.
So that night he had 2 ounces of it. And he threw up and threw up and threw up. I thought it was odd. He had some pink in his diaper. I thought that was odd. The next day I took him to the children's ER and they said it was "just a common stomach bug" They seemed annoyed that I was there. I questioned them, saying that he had never had soy formula before and asked if it could have been that. They said no, it was a stomach bug. So we went home.
It took a few days for his appetite to return. He had massive soupy poops for the next few days. I had lots of time to build up my stash of pumped milk. But my supply was still crashing so it didn't last long. September 23rd 2009, 10 days after I gave him the bottle of soy formula I went grocery shopping while Matt fed Bravo his nightly bottle and put him to bed. I was out of pumped milk and had already nursed him and he then had a 9 ounce bottle of soy formula. While I was at the store Matthew called. Bravo was REALLY throwing up. It was about 8:30. I paid and booked it home. By 9:00 the boy had thrown up all over me, his dad, his room, the walls, the floor, his bed, the couch, every possible surface was covered in endless amounts of vomit. And he was still throwing up. We called Matt parents and asked them to come over to watch Alpha while we took Bravo in. We were bracing ourselves for a long night of waiting for 6 hours before being told it was a stomach bug and to go home. But He was just throwing up SO much I wanted to take him in. Matt's parents got to our house and Bravo had finally stopped throwing up. But he wasn't looking so hot and was still dry heaving and coughing and looking odd. SO we went to the hospital. Thinking the whole way there that the trip was a waste of time, that we would be there waiting forever. We got into triage and thankfully the line wasn't too big. We put him in his bucket seat on the counter and the nurse looked at him for a bit and had a strange look on her face. That's when I REALLY looked at Bravo. He was turning kind of grey. He was lethargic. He was wide awake but no crying came out of him (which was odd- if that boy was awake, he was screaming). I asked the nurse how long the wait would be to see a doctor. She said "hmmmnow. They said it with urgency and told us to follow them. We did none of the normal triage paperwork. We went through the first set of double doors then we went through this huge set of double doors with RESUSCITATION written in huge letters across the doors. Oh. My heart sank. That word alone implied that life was in danger and needed to be saved, life needed to be brought back to the person quickly or they would die. Why on earth were we in that room??? I don't think I can describe the fog that was in my head at that point.
From this point on it went into a blur. I remember scenes, not the whole event. Like there are just snapshots in my head of it, not rolling movie.
They put Bravo on this bed. There were about 15 or more people in the room all trying to help my tiny baby. This tiny lifeless body on this huge table. He was 4.5 months old. They poked him and poked him and poked him, needle after needle,IV attempt after IV attempt. Matt and I kind of squished to the side and each had a finger on Bravo. Bravo was staring at us. I think I was singing to him. His eyes were lifeless, not a cry squeaked out of him despite all the poking. A doctor came in and said "you need to come with me NOW." More urgency in his voice. I told him that Matt was staying. If this was going to be Bravos last moments he wasn't leaving this world not being touched by a parent. Hooo. Now the tears are coming. The doctor wanted both of us but I refused. Bravo was NOT going to be alone. Daddy was staying.
The doctor took me to "that" room. The room with a million tiny boxes of Kleenex and couches and chairs. It was the room the doctor took you in to give you really bad news. The room the doctor tells you something is seriously wrong with your baby- or worse. Wow- do I not want to go into that room ever again. He asked me what was going on, what had happened. I described everything including the last ER visit. he said I was probably right about it being a soy allergy. Then he said it was a good thing we got there when we did. I asked if he meant that Bravo would have died. He simply said "It's a good thing you got here when you did and not 5 minutes later." 5 minutes later? That's being stuck at 1 train or a couple more lights or not finding a parking spot or talking with my in-laws a bit longer or... 5 minutes is not a lot of time. I got back to the room and they had stabilized Bravos heart and he was breathing better but on oxygen. They had finally got 3 IVs in him. He was still not good, but he was out of immediate danger. They were going to admit him but a room wasn't ready. Another family was coming into resuscitation though and they didn't want us to see that so they were getting one of the private ER rooms ready for us until we could be admitted. I left the room because I had to go to the bathroom and I walked out back into the ER waiting room full of kids and I started to lose it. Tears started streaming down my face, hiccup sobs started coming out of my mouth and I had zero control over it. I had been OK up to this point, but now I was losing it. I walked to one of the bathrooms and some guy was about to go in it. He took one look at me and held the door and said "go ahead". I went in and I sobbed. And then I got it together and washed my face and went back to Matt and Bravo. We were just about to be transferred to the other ER room. We got in and Bravo made a little face- like a tiny pushing face. I checked his diaper and it was full, and I do mean FULL of pink runny stool. He was pooing blood. I showed the nurse and there was another flurry of activity. We were sent to ex ray to check out... something. I don't even know what. And then I was told I was not allowed to nurse him. That his insides needed a break. His intestines were bleeding from all of the poison in his belly. Then Bravo cried. You know that first cry a newborn makes where you're just so relieved to hear the baby make a noise, any noise? It was reliefe like that times... a lot. He was so tired and needed to sleep and I knew that I could get him to sleep in seconds if I could just nurse him. Or put him in his sling- but he was a mess of wires and tube so I couldn't do that, either. My heart ached, my breasts ached, I wanted nothing more than to comfort him the way he wanted. But I couldn't. We finally got admitted. I stayed with him in the hospital never leaving for 3 days. He wasn't allowed to leave until he would eat the super gross formula, nutramigen. Man, that stuff is nasty! And he need to stop pooing blood and not be dehydrated. I missed Alpha's second birthday on the 25th. I cried when there was the little girl just down the hall and her parents never once visited her. She sat in the swing by the nurses station for most of the day. Bravo and I went over and sat with her and talked with her often. I couldn't imagine leaving a 4 month old baby there and not visiting. It broke my heart.
We finally came home and eventually got allergy teasing and he is allergic to soy (surprise surprise), milk protein, peas, peanuts, and egg. He has since outgrown peas (wahoo!) and has also since had anaphalactic reactions to small amounts of milk. It's been a roller coaster and full of ups and downs, but that day will never be out of my head.
Sometimes Bravo will be having a really funny and sweet day. One of the days that really melts your heart. And those are the days that it hits me more. Bravo was having a day like that on Saturday and Matt's eyes welled up with tears and all he could say was "I'm so glad he's here". I don't think we as parents will get over that horrible horrible day. It will always be there that we were this close to missing out on everything he's doing. On everything that he is. The world would be a worse place without him. My world would be a worse place without him. Milk, I could do without. Bravo, not so much.
So that's the beginning of that story.
Which leads me to this post. The long over due post about how we discovered Bravos allergies. A lot of you know most or parts of the story. But I've never really gotten into all the details. Because it's hard to write out, it's hard to talk about or think about. That day was a bad one. And when I think about it I remember just how close we were to losing him and then my head spins and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't help but think of the "what ifs". What if we hadn't gotten there in time, what if we were that 5 minutes later, what if they couldn't get the IV in, what if there was a super long wait at triage like there normally is, what if he didn't make it- our lives would be so much worse.
So.
Allergies.
Bravo was a rough nurser. Well, lets be honest. Bravo was a rough baby. It took FOREVER for him to learn how to latch like a normal child. I think it was 12 weeks before he latched properly and stayed there. It was pretty bad. But he had finally started to latch and nurse properly. And then my supply started to decline. and then it entered a full crash. And he was hungry and screaming and freaking out. And I was out of pumped milk to give him in a bottle. He INSISTED in having a bottle before bed. So I gave him some formula, just normal enfamil. And he got gassy and miserable. He happened to have a doctors appointment so I mentioned it to her and she gave me a can of soy formula and said some babies just don't tolerate normal formula.
So that night he had 2 ounces of it. And he threw up and threw up and threw up. I thought it was odd. He had some pink in his diaper. I thought that was odd. The next day I took him to the children's ER and they said it was "just a common stomach bug" They seemed annoyed that I was there. I questioned them, saying that he had never had soy formula before and asked if it could have been that. They said no, it was a stomach bug. So we went home.
It took a few days for his appetite to return. He had massive soupy poops for the next few days. I had lots of time to build up my stash of pumped milk. But my supply was still crashing so it didn't last long. September 23rd 2009, 10 days after I gave him the bottle of soy formula I went grocery shopping while Matt fed Bravo his nightly bottle and put him to bed. I was out of pumped milk and had already nursed him and he then had a 9 ounce bottle of soy formula. While I was at the store Matthew called. Bravo was REALLY throwing up. It was about 8:30. I paid and booked it home. By 9:00 the boy had thrown up all over me, his dad, his room, the walls, the floor, his bed, the couch, every possible surface was covered in endless amounts of vomit. And he was still throwing up. We called Matt parents and asked them to come over to watch Alpha while we took Bravo in. We were bracing ourselves for a long night of waiting for 6 hours before being told it was a stomach bug and to go home. But He was just throwing up SO much I wanted to take him in. Matt's parents got to our house and Bravo had finally stopped throwing up. But he wasn't looking so hot and was still dry heaving and coughing and looking odd. SO we went to the hospital. Thinking the whole way there that the trip was a waste of time, that we would be there waiting forever. We got into triage and thankfully the line wasn't too big. We put him in his bucket seat on the counter and the nurse looked at him for a bit and had a strange look on her face. That's when I REALLY looked at Bravo. He was turning kind of grey. He was lethargic. He was wide awake but no crying came out of him (which was odd- if that boy was awake, he was screaming). I asked the nurse how long the wait would be to see a doctor. She said "hmmmnow. They said it with urgency and told us to follow them. We did none of the normal triage paperwork. We went through the first set of double doors then we went through this huge set of double doors with RESUSCITATION written in huge letters across the doors. Oh. My heart sank. That word alone implied that life was in danger and needed to be saved, life needed to be brought back to the person quickly or they would die. Why on earth were we in that room??? I don't think I can describe the fog that was in my head at that point.
From this point on it went into a blur. I remember scenes, not the whole event. Like there are just snapshots in my head of it, not rolling movie.
They put Bravo on this bed. There were about 15 or more people in the room all trying to help my tiny baby. This tiny lifeless body on this huge table. He was 4.5 months old. They poked him and poked him and poked him, needle after needle,IV attempt after IV attempt. Matt and I kind of squished to the side and each had a finger on Bravo. Bravo was staring at us. I think I was singing to him. His eyes were lifeless, not a cry squeaked out of him despite all the poking. A doctor came in and said "you need to come with me NOW." More urgency in his voice. I told him that Matt was staying. If this was going to be Bravos last moments he wasn't leaving this world not being touched by a parent. Hooo. Now the tears are coming. The doctor wanted both of us but I refused. Bravo was NOT going to be alone. Daddy was staying.
The doctor took me to "that" room. The room with a million tiny boxes of Kleenex and couches and chairs. It was the room the doctor took you in to give you really bad news. The room the doctor tells you something is seriously wrong with your baby- or worse. Wow- do I not want to go into that room ever again. He asked me what was going on, what had happened. I described everything including the last ER visit. he said I was probably right about it being a soy allergy. Then he said it was a good thing we got there when we did. I asked if he meant that Bravo would have died. He simply said "It's a good thing you got here when you did and not 5 minutes later." 5 minutes later? That's being stuck at 1 train or a couple more lights or not finding a parking spot or talking with my in-laws a bit longer or... 5 minutes is not a lot of time. I got back to the room and they had stabilized Bravos heart and he was breathing better but on oxygen. They had finally got 3 IVs in him. He was still not good, but he was out of immediate danger. They were going to admit him but a room wasn't ready. Another family was coming into resuscitation though and they didn't want us to see that so they were getting one of the private ER rooms ready for us until we could be admitted. I left the room because I had to go to the bathroom and I walked out back into the ER waiting room full of kids and I started to lose it. Tears started streaming down my face, hiccup sobs started coming out of my mouth and I had zero control over it. I had been OK up to this point, but now I was losing it. I walked to one of the bathrooms and some guy was about to go in it. He took one look at me and held the door and said "go ahead". I went in and I sobbed. And then I got it together and washed my face and went back to Matt and Bravo. We were just about to be transferred to the other ER room. We got in and Bravo made a little face- like a tiny pushing face. I checked his diaper and it was full, and I do mean FULL of pink runny stool. He was pooing blood. I showed the nurse and there was another flurry of activity. We were sent to ex ray to check out... something. I don't even know what. And then I was told I was not allowed to nurse him. That his insides needed a break. His intestines were bleeding from all of the poison in his belly. Then Bravo cried. You know that first cry a newborn makes where you're just so relieved to hear the baby make a noise, any noise? It was reliefe like that times... a lot. He was so tired and needed to sleep and I knew that I could get him to sleep in seconds if I could just nurse him. Or put him in his sling- but he was a mess of wires and tube so I couldn't do that, either. My heart ached, my breasts ached, I wanted nothing more than to comfort him the way he wanted. But I couldn't. We finally got admitted. I stayed with him in the hospital never leaving for 3 days. He wasn't allowed to leave until he would eat the super gross formula, nutramigen. Man, that stuff is nasty! And he need to stop pooing blood and not be dehydrated. I missed Alpha's second birthday on the 25th. I cried when there was the little girl just down the hall and her parents never once visited her. She sat in the swing by the nurses station for most of the day. Bravo and I went over and sat with her and talked with her often. I couldn't imagine leaving a 4 month old baby there and not visiting. It broke my heart.
We finally came home and eventually got allergy teasing and he is allergic to soy (surprise surprise), milk protein, peas, peanuts, and egg. He has since outgrown peas (wahoo!) and has also since had anaphalactic reactions to small amounts of milk. It's been a roller coaster and full of ups and downs, but that day will never be out of my head.
Sometimes Bravo will be having a really funny and sweet day. One of the days that really melts your heart. And those are the days that it hits me more. Bravo was having a day like that on Saturday and Matt's eyes welled up with tears and all he could say was "I'm so glad he's here". I don't think we as parents will get over that horrible horrible day. It will always be there that we were this close to missing out on everything he's doing. On everything that he is. The world would be a worse place without him. My world would be a worse place without him. Milk, I could do without. Bravo, not so much.
So that's the beginning of that story.
Friday 11 November 2011
Food Friday
Ok- I've seriously sucked at putting up new recipes. And this week is not going to be any better. But next week I'll do my dairy-free cream and mushroom sauces.
This week is the pregnant edition of food friday. Also known as
Everything I wish I was eating RIGHT NOW.
1. popcorn chicken form KFC
2. Sushi rolls
3. Chocolate cake
4. double pepperoni and mushroom pizza
5. cinnamon buns with icing
6. Hot dogs
7. A big mac
8. Mashed potatoes with gravy- but not gross gravy. Really really good gravy.
9. Poutine
10. nachos
11. Apple pie
12. Chicken pot pie with yummy crust and lots of sauce all piping hot.
13. Popcorn twists (you know those melty things that have no resemblance to real popcorn what so ever? those things. And maybe some hickory sticks.)
Hmmm. It seems like sweet or savory all I really want to eat is cmofort foods high in simple carbs. mmmmm, simple carbs. How I adore thee! It's a good thing I'm broke and too lazy to make these things or I'd be up 58 pounds 10 weeks in!
This week is the pregnant edition of food friday. Also known as
Everything I wish I was eating RIGHT NOW.
1. popcorn chicken form KFC
2. Sushi rolls
3. Chocolate cake
4. double pepperoni and mushroom pizza
5. cinnamon buns with icing
6. Hot dogs
7. A big mac
8. Mashed potatoes with gravy- but not gross gravy. Really really good gravy.
9. Poutine
10. nachos
11. Apple pie
12. Chicken pot pie with yummy crust and lots of sauce all piping hot.
13. Popcorn twists (you know those melty things that have no resemblance to real popcorn what so ever? those things. And maybe some hickory sticks.)
Hmmm. It seems like sweet or savory all I really want to eat is cmofort foods high in simple carbs. mmmmm, simple carbs. How I adore thee! It's a good thing I'm broke and too lazy to make these things or I'd be up 58 pounds 10 weeks in!
Thursday 10 November 2011
I was not expecting this.
The grief is subsiding. And I feel so guilty about that.
I have still thought about Thomas every single day, but it's lessening. And the grief is easing. After nearly 15 months the grief is lessening. And I feel so so so guilty about it. It feels like I'm forgetting him. Or that this new baby is replacing him. And because of this new baby the grief has eased in frequency and intensity. I know grief ebbs and flows. I've had so many times of it flowing that I'm well over due for an "ebb".
I feel like if I'm not sad about him then I've forgotten him. Or that I'm passing on the message that I don't miss him. I feel like if I'm not in the thick of grief with him then maybe he didn't mean that much after all. I KNOW all this is ridiculous. And I can only hope it's normal. I've never really lost anybody THIS close to me before. I've lost grandparents I was very close to, I've had friendships fall apart suddenly and that felt like a friend died, but I've never lost a child. And I don't know how the journey is "supposed" to go.
I miss Thomas, but it isn't the raw emotional loss and grief that I felt so intensely even a month ago. There's a lot on my brain and heart lately, and there's a lot of getting used to the idea of Delta and it makes me sad that the first thing to go in my brain was the Thomas spot. That his spot has been taken up by thoughts over the new baby.
I was not prepared for the guilt to kick in when the grief finally starts to ease even a little.
This is a long journey. And I'm tired. I'm tired of traveling it, and I'm tired of looking backwards to see where I was, and I'm tired of trying to figure out what comes next and I'm tired of trying to be OK and I'm tired of the guilt and I wish...... I don't even know. I wish I could sleep for 2 months and give my poor brain and heart and body a break. I wish this had happened to not me. Not that I wish it had happened to somebody else, and not that I wish him away, but I wish Thomas was here and I didn't have to grief for him. I wish he didn't need to be grieved at all. And I wish I could give myself permission to be OK with everything, and be OK with "replacing" him. Geeze- maybe that's why I'm having a hard time still with Delta is maybe I feel like I am trying to replace Thomas.
Bah! I need out of my brain.
Now, how's that for a completely non-flowing, everywhere, no-real-point post??
I have still thought about Thomas every single day, but it's lessening. And the grief is easing. After nearly 15 months the grief is lessening. And I feel so so so guilty about it. It feels like I'm forgetting him. Or that this new baby is replacing him. And because of this new baby the grief has eased in frequency and intensity. I know grief ebbs and flows. I've had so many times of it flowing that I'm well over due for an "ebb".
I feel like if I'm not sad about him then I've forgotten him. Or that I'm passing on the message that I don't miss him. I feel like if I'm not in the thick of grief with him then maybe he didn't mean that much after all. I KNOW all this is ridiculous. And I can only hope it's normal. I've never really lost anybody THIS close to me before. I've lost grandparents I was very close to, I've had friendships fall apart suddenly and that felt like a friend died, but I've never lost a child. And I don't know how the journey is "supposed" to go.
I miss Thomas, but it isn't the raw emotional loss and grief that I felt so intensely even a month ago. There's a lot on my brain and heart lately, and there's a lot of getting used to the idea of Delta and it makes me sad that the first thing to go in my brain was the Thomas spot. That his spot has been taken up by thoughts over the new baby.
I was not prepared for the guilt to kick in when the grief finally starts to ease even a little.
This is a long journey. And I'm tired. I'm tired of traveling it, and I'm tired of looking backwards to see where I was, and I'm tired of trying to figure out what comes next and I'm tired of trying to be OK and I'm tired of the guilt and I wish...... I don't even know. I wish I could sleep for 2 months and give my poor brain and heart and body a break. I wish this had happened to not me. Not that I wish it had happened to somebody else, and not that I wish him away, but I wish Thomas was here and I didn't have to grief for him. I wish he didn't need to be grieved at all. And I wish I could give myself permission to be OK with everything, and be OK with "replacing" him. Geeze- maybe that's why I'm having a hard time still with Delta is maybe I feel like I am trying to replace Thomas.
Bah! I need out of my brain.
Now, how's that for a completely non-flowing, everywhere, no-real-point post??
Wednesday 9 November 2011
Friday 4 November 2011
Thankful- for the sweetest thing
Every night before I tuck my self in I go check on my boys (well, not Charlie because his feeding schedule demands that i still hang out with him eleventy times a night) and I sneak in their rooms and give them a kiss. And sometimes they stir and sometimes they don't. And sometimes Bravo wants me to sing him Winnie The Pooh as he drifts back to sleep. And that time of the day is my favourite. Becasue I truely don't think there is anything sweeter than sleeping little kids. Alpha gets all sweaty and I flip his pillow over more nights than not. And Bravo twists himself into the strangest little positions. And they both heave these heavy sighs and mash their mommy-knitted blankets into their faces. And it warms my heart. And I love them.
Thursday 3 November 2011
Thankful... for my family
Ok. Time for a happy post!
Especially in light of my friend's husband just up and leaving, I am so so so thankful for Matt.
He is strong and brave and caring and helpful and wonderful and handsome to boot. The poor man can't cook (unless you count instant oatmeal as cooking- He does, I don't) but that's about his only fault. And he cleans up my giant cooking mess, so that's a fair trade-off.
Matt puts 2 of the 3 kids to bed each night. He does bath time often, he reads books and sings songs and cleans potties and kisses owies and deals with temper tantrums and teaches sharing and referees and tells endless stories about Winnie the Pooh eating toast. He sweeps the floor, does 97% of the laundry in the house (maybe closer to 98%.), rakes, does garbage, cleans the eaves and the furnace filter. He tells me he loves me every day, he showers the kids with attention, he's fantastic with even the teeny baby stage.
He really is the ideal made-up type of husband and father. And when I thank him or tell him that he's wonderful he just shrugs it off and thinks that all men are like this. I really really did luck out with him. And he (although he strongly disagrees) is too good for me. But he loves me to death. And I am so thankful for him.
Especially in light of my friend's husband just up and leaving, I am so so so thankful for Matt.
He is strong and brave and caring and helpful and wonderful and handsome to boot. The poor man can't cook (unless you count instant oatmeal as cooking- He does, I don't) but that's about his only fault. And he cleans up my giant cooking mess, so that's a fair trade-off.
Matt puts 2 of the 3 kids to bed each night. He does bath time often, he reads books and sings songs and cleans potties and kisses owies and deals with temper tantrums and teaches sharing and referees and tells endless stories about Winnie the Pooh eating toast. He sweeps the floor, does 97% of the laundry in the house (maybe closer to 98%.), rakes, does garbage, cleans the eaves and the furnace filter. He tells me he loves me every day, he showers the kids with attention, he's fantastic with even the teeny baby stage.
He really is the ideal made-up type of husband and father. And when I thank him or tell him that he's wonderful he just shrugs it off and thinks that all men are like this. I really really did luck out with him. And he (although he strongly disagrees) is too good for me. But he loves me to death. And I am so thankful for him.
Wednesday 2 November 2011
too much grief
Every where I turn people are grieving. People who have lost babies, people whose husbands are leaving them, people who in secret had a baby 40 years ago and gave it up for adoption because of family shame and still regret it. People who lost jobs, a friend whose 14 month old baby died. They knew it was coming and were waiting for the day when sweet baby Rachel wouldn't be with them, and then poof. She's gone and their grief entered a whole new world. There is big grief and little grief, long term grief and "get over it fast" grief. But every where I turn people are hurting. And that makes me sad.
My good good friend's husband just left her and their 2 beautiful boys. And I can't stop thinking about her and feeling so sad for her. I've been telling Alpha and Bravo all day that Daddy and I love them and that Daddy and I love each other. All last night after we found out Matthew and I just kept touching each other's leg or arm or whatever and telling each other "I love you".
I seem to be more touched by people's grief since losing Thomas. I mean, I had empathy before. I hated to see people sad, I would (usually) try to do something to help, but I wasn't grieving, I was OK, so it just didn't affect me as much.
Since losing Thomas I weep when I hear about a baby dying or a pregnancy not ending happily, or even a child getting recoverably sick. I feel so deeply sad for people when they are hurting. Because I don't want people to hurt. I want to get big colourful emotional bandages and stick them on people and kiss them and make them feel better. But life doesn't work that way.
One phrase that has started driving me a little crazy is "you'll never get more than you can handle". I don't believe that. Not even for a second. I know some people deeply believe that. I don't. Just because you come out the other end doesn't mean you can handle something. I think of Matt's Grandpa who was an old-time war vet. I have tried to think about what it would be like to be in that war. To have bullets zooming all around, to be spraying bullets yourself. To be covered in your own blood and your friend's blood. And I can't even begin to imagine what that does to your heart, soul, and brain. And then like so many others, when he finally came home 5 years later he was an alcoholic. Clearly, it was too much for him to handle.
people do what they can to cope. And sometimes it turns out that they can cope in good and healthy ways, and sometimes they can't. We don't have a choice but to "handle" something. It doesn't make us strong, it doesn't make us brave, there was no choice given. It just is. And these events change us. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the better. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the worse. If people were never given more than they could handle there would be no suicide, no alcoholism, fewer cases of true depression, fewer heart aches. Less crying and more joy.
I have had a few things in my life, 3 events actually, that have honestly been too much for me to handle. One event led to me never speaking to my brother again. The last time I spoke to him was 10 years ago, and I will never speak to him again. At least not until my parents die and then he's my "responsibility" But even then I will try to talk to the workers involved and not him. That event, or rather culmination of events, was far more than I could handle. And it changed me. It made me bitter, it made me me cynical. I changed from the happy-go-lucky sweet, laughs easily, innocent girl that I was. And I miss that person.
Another event just changed me. Not in any way that I can articulate, but it changed me.Although since then I am far more careful. With people and with things, with words and with wielding my emotions. And Thomas changed me. Both for the good and for the less-good. I am more empathetic. I am more caring. And I am far more sad. I appreciate life more, but I am overly cautious. I no longer jump into life with both feet.
I don't even know what this post is really about. I am strong. And I know I will survive whatever things life throws my way, even really awful things, because I have no choice. And most people are the same way.
I guess I just miss being a kid, miss life before my heart was so broken I could hardly see through tears to put it back together. And it breaks my heart to know that other people have pain and grief and are trying to put their souls, hearts, brains, and lives back together through a wall of tears. And though I have had grief, I know that it has never touched the level of grief that others have. And that makes me even sadder.
wah wah.......(you know the sound effect, right?)
My good good friend's husband just left her and their 2 beautiful boys. And I can't stop thinking about her and feeling so sad for her. I've been telling Alpha and Bravo all day that Daddy and I love them and that Daddy and I love each other. All last night after we found out Matthew and I just kept touching each other's leg or arm or whatever and telling each other "I love you".
I seem to be more touched by people's grief since losing Thomas. I mean, I had empathy before. I hated to see people sad, I would (usually) try to do something to help, but I wasn't grieving, I was OK, so it just didn't affect me as much.
Since losing Thomas I weep when I hear about a baby dying or a pregnancy not ending happily, or even a child getting recoverably sick. I feel so deeply sad for people when they are hurting. Because I don't want people to hurt. I want to get big colourful emotional bandages and stick them on people and kiss them and make them feel better. But life doesn't work that way.
One phrase that has started driving me a little crazy is "you'll never get more than you can handle". I don't believe that. Not even for a second. I know some people deeply believe that. I don't. Just because you come out the other end doesn't mean you can handle something. I think of Matt's Grandpa who was an old-time war vet. I have tried to think about what it would be like to be in that war. To have bullets zooming all around, to be spraying bullets yourself. To be covered in your own blood and your friend's blood. And I can't even begin to imagine what that does to your heart, soul, and brain. And then like so many others, when he finally came home 5 years later he was an alcoholic. Clearly, it was too much for him to handle.
people do what they can to cope. And sometimes it turns out that they can cope in good and healthy ways, and sometimes they can't. We don't have a choice but to "handle" something. It doesn't make us strong, it doesn't make us brave, there was no choice given. It just is. And these events change us. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the better. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the worse. If people were never given more than they could handle there would be no suicide, no alcoholism, fewer cases of true depression, fewer heart aches. Less crying and more joy.
I have had a few things in my life, 3 events actually, that have honestly been too much for me to handle. One event led to me never speaking to my brother again. The last time I spoke to him was 10 years ago, and I will never speak to him again. At least not until my parents die and then he's my "responsibility" But even then I will try to talk to the workers involved and not him. That event, or rather culmination of events, was far more than I could handle. And it changed me. It made me bitter, it made me me cynical. I changed from the happy-go-lucky sweet, laughs easily, innocent girl that I was. And I miss that person.
Another event just changed me. Not in any way that I can articulate, but it changed me.Although since then I am far more careful. With people and with things, with words and with wielding my emotions. And Thomas changed me. Both for the good and for the less-good. I am more empathetic. I am more caring. And I am far more sad. I appreciate life more, but I am overly cautious. I no longer jump into life with both feet.
I don't even know what this post is really about. I am strong. And I know I will survive whatever things life throws my way, even really awful things, because I have no choice. And most people are the same way.
I guess I just miss being a kid, miss life before my heart was so broken I could hardly see through tears to put it back together. And it breaks my heart to know that other people have pain and grief and are trying to put their souls, hearts, brains, and lives back together through a wall of tears. And though I have had grief, I know that it has never touched the level of grief that others have. And that makes me even sadder.
wah wah.......(you know the sound effect, right?)
Tuesday 1 November 2011
Thomas- part 4 -the name for the child who didn't quite make it.
When Charlie was born without his twin we gave him the middle name "Thomas" which means twin. Well, that's one of his middle names. Alpha and Bravo have 1 middle name, but Charlie got 2. I wanted to honour Charlies twin that he started his life with, so we gave him the name Thomas. Had the twin been born then he would have been called Thomas. Or Amelia had the baby been a girl. Here's the thing: we never actually got to find out what the gender of the twin was. And for a long long time that really really really bothered me. Matt called the twin Thomas but I just couldn't. What if the baby had been a girl? I couldn't give the baby a name and I was saddened by that. I don't care for any of the boy/girl names, so it just didn't feel right to give the child a name I wouldn't give a living child. When the twin was first seen at my 20 week u/s the baby was in a position that they couldn't see gender parts. And it had already started deteriorating, so even had it been in a better position there is no guarantee that they could have told me one way or the other. The twin likely died between 14 and 16 weeks, so that's a little early to tell in the best of circumstances.
After Charlie was born I prayed every night to see my baby in a dream, to know if it was a boy or a girl, Thomas or Amelia. And every morning I awoke heartbroken. Matthew stopped out-loud referring to him as Thomas because it really upset me.
Then the end of August started creeping up on me. The one year anniversary of that horrible day. And it was deeply deeply affecting me. One day I just woke up and had the clearest feeling that the baby had been a boy. I had been so back and forth and back and forth on if I thought it had been a girl or a boy, but I just felt like he was a he. And it started to mean more to me that the twin had a name and not "dead baby" That started getting to be a really bad name in my head. That's how I thought of my sweet twin was "dead baby". So One morning I just woke up and started calling him Thomas. The first time I did so in front of Matthew he just looked at me surprised and didn't make mention of it. I think Matthew is sometimes a little afraid to really talk about everything with me. And now Thomas is just Thomas. He has a name that his big brother's can call him, a name that i can call him, a way to refer to him in a healthy way.
Thomas. My sweet baby not here with me, Charlie's missing twin, Delta's angel. Still, as it is, if Delta is a girl I no longer can use the name Amelia as we had been planning (it was Matthew's Grandma's name) just because on the off chance it had been a girl she would have been Amelia.
I still wait and look forward to the day when I see my Thomas in my dreams. I long to see his sweet face, even if only for a moment in a fleeting dream.
After Charlie was born I prayed every night to see my baby in a dream, to know if it was a boy or a girl, Thomas or Amelia. And every morning I awoke heartbroken. Matthew stopped out-loud referring to him as Thomas because it really upset me.
Then the end of August started creeping up on me. The one year anniversary of that horrible day. And it was deeply deeply affecting me. One day I just woke up and had the clearest feeling that the baby had been a boy. I had been so back and forth and back and forth on if I thought it had been a girl or a boy, but I just felt like he was a he. And it started to mean more to me that the twin had a name and not "dead baby" That started getting to be a really bad name in my head. That's how I thought of my sweet twin was "dead baby". So One morning I just woke up and started calling him Thomas. The first time I did so in front of Matthew he just looked at me surprised and didn't make mention of it. I think Matthew is sometimes a little afraid to really talk about everything with me. And now Thomas is just Thomas. He has a name that his big brother's can call him, a name that i can call him, a way to refer to him in a healthy way.
Thomas. My sweet baby not here with me, Charlie's missing twin, Delta's angel. Still, as it is, if Delta is a girl I no longer can use the name Amelia as we had been planning (it was Matthew's Grandma's name) just because on the off chance it had been a girl she would have been Amelia.
I still wait and look forward to the day when I see my Thomas in my dreams. I long to see his sweet face, even if only for a moment in a fleeting dream.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)