What do u struggle with most? Someone asked me this question and the answer for me is immediately forthcoming. I struggle with being a twin. A surprising statement to actually voice, shocking almost when you consider my relationship with my identical twin sister. We often joke that we are each other's soul mate, we talk of completion and total understanding, of being joined in such a close inexplicable bond. So struggle seems an odd sentiment, it doesn't correlate, how can such a bond be categorized in any way as strife?
I do know that part of the strife does come from the closeness of our bond, our dependency on each other. When you feel such a connection with one person it can be very easy and even unintentional to shut others out. Why take the time and effort to explain yourself to others when someone else understands you with an ease and such grace? Quickly other relationships can feel dimmed under the spotlight of such dependency and attachment. Boundaries are necessary but are not always easy to set. This dependency is a new part of the struggle. For a very long time I was content in this reliance, this beautiful if unbalanced friendship and bond. Only in the last few years, when my life has been on such a shaky foundation, have I realized the drawbacks and the effect of our closeness on others. I haven't fully invested in other relationships or in attempting to foster closeness with others I love. The realization of how my twin relationship affects my other relationships has created a need for balance, thus creating struggle.
My struggle of being a twin cannot solely be attributed to dependency. My struggle has always been in finding myself, defining myself, setting myself apart from someone who looks almost identical to me and acts very similar in many ways. The balance in embracing our similarities while drawing out our differences has been hard for me. Often I have went to one extreme while others chose the other extreme. We are categorized as "the twins." When together the focus is most definitely on our likeness to each other. Often people assume we like the same things, feel the same things, want the same things. I can't tell you how many times we have received the same gift or compliment. Often as children we were dressed alike, our identicalness was celebrated and fostered. And while this happens, I find myself going to the other extreme, screaming out for my own identity, place. I've talked about it before, her zig became my zag. You want long hair, well then mine will be short. You want girly-girl appearance and make-up and dresses, well then I'll do natural ponytail and jeans. These are simple things but often I went to extremes. Overachiever/slacker. Compliant/Rebellious.
For years I felt I lived in her shadow or in the shadow of our twinness. I would guess in ways she has felt the same. Even today at times I feel it. I wonder when I feel it now if it is just remnants of past thoughts and emotions. Yesterday someone remarked that they didn't know she was a twin. I thought how odd, we are truly living separate lives now, in different cities. How odd that something so key to my identity is not known or visible by everyone. Someone else remarked how much my oldest daughter looked like her. I thought "Hey wait a second, she's my daughter." Logical? No, I know when we both look so similar but it did rub me a little wrong. My pride, my joy, my sweet daughter;link her to me. Illogical, the thoughts of a twin sometime.
The struggle to be noticed and not just noticed but celebrated for who you are while not being compared or measured to someone else has always been my fight. I shared a room, a closet, a life and everything it entails with someone who became my own personal measure of self-esteem, beauty, acceptance. We shared friends, experiences, secrets, clothes, a bathroom. We still share all of those but a bathroom. We still spend hours talking, still sometimes late in the night. She is always one of my markers for joy, the one I laugh with over silly things, the one I cry to and confess to. I'm truly blessed to be able to call my sister my closest friend. I'm thankful that the competitive atmosphere of our friendship is rarely present now. My choices now are my own, not brought about my knee jerk reactions to distinguish myself as separate. I still cringe when I hear someone call us the twins though, even when they say 'the gorgeous redhead twins.' (I may have added the gorgeous part but I love descriptive words, the more the merrier!) I want to say we are so much more than what you see as us together. We are individual and deserve to be recognized for that.
So in reading this I am offering you a public service announcement. When you see twins, do not, I repeat, do not call them twins. Take the time to learn their individual names. :)
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
A step in the right direction
Man, I am struggling tonight. It was a very busy, full day, an emotional rollercoaster of a day as well. And I am reminded tonight about how life is about moments. Moments that shape you, mold you, change you, reform you or sometimes even break you. We don't get to pick the moments I have learned that, but we do get to pick how we respond.
I spent the morning with a room full of lovely girlfriends. I held a sweet little baby, who was not my own, hugged an almost-due beautifully pregnant friend, listened in on other conversations of friends voicing their desire to have more babies. Celebrated with a dear friend's joyful news, and talked of how I am feeling post-op, physically, emotionally. Then had lunch and headed off to my first post- op doctor appointment, a room full of beautiful, abundant, glowing pregnant ladies and a few late in life ladies. I sat with the late in life ladies. I read a senior magazine on bone density, I couldnt bring myself to look at all the Pregnancy and Conception Magazines. I texted my sister, sending out a plea for a lifeline. Quick, make me laugh, distract me, pray for me, save me from myself right now. Then they called my name and off I went to speak with my fabulous doctor.
It was a great check-up, I have to say I have bounced back rather nicely. But he had pictures and discussion for me. Oh I was expecting it but still so not ready for it. My hysterectomy was a direct result of mistakes made from my c-section; I think I have shared that before but if I havent, there it is. And I saw close-up in color pictures of the mistakes, pictures of my damaged womb, my damaged ovary and tubes. And I learned the damage was more extensive than I had originally thought. I dont mind gore, blood, organs, tissue, doesnt bother me in the least. But I have to say seeing my organs and the damage was shocking, upsetting. I have a wonderful surgeon who was able to repair what he could and remove what he couldnt. I am caught up in the removal, in the loss, in the senselessness and the carelessness of it. Preventable, all preventable, and I am not sure how to wrap my mind around that. But you see today I was reminded life is about how you react to the moments. The damage done to my body was in a moment, in that same moment I received the gift of a miracle, my beautiful baby boy. Oh I have heard it so many times over the last two years, "Just be glad you have Caleb, focus on that and dont worry about the rest." It's so hurtful when someone else recommends, even sometimes demands, that you move on. But it is beautiful and freeing, when you, your self can move on. My moment was at least two-fold, loss and blessing. What an interesting dynamic to come to terms with.
I told you of the pictures, I have several sheets of them. My doctor was kind enough to make me copies. I had them on the counter at home. Seneca was fascinated by them, asking what organs were what and where the incisions were made. Sierra was disturbed and covered her eyes and could not look. And my sweet Vanny, standing in the middle of both of them, stealing glances and then hugging me after each look at the pictures; my reassurer. This scene with the girls, struck such a chord with me. I've been like each girl in the midst of this struggle. Most often like Sierra, not ready to fully deal, avoiding. Sometimes like Vanny, diving in for a look, for a reality check and then pulling back, all the while reassuring myself and others. And recently more like my logical, realist Senny. Let's look it in the face and see what we are dealing with, no fear, no disgust, just focused interest and introspect. A key to moving on, at least a step in the right direction.
I'm so thankful I have beautiful amazing friends who share their lives with me. I am so blessed by my wonderful girls and the promptings they give to my spirit on a continual basis. I am amazed by the gift, the miracle of my sweet boy. It makes dealing with loss and ache much easier.
I spent the morning with a room full of lovely girlfriends. I held a sweet little baby, who was not my own, hugged an almost-due beautifully pregnant friend, listened in on other conversations of friends voicing their desire to have more babies. Celebrated with a dear friend's joyful news, and talked of how I am feeling post-op, physically, emotionally. Then had lunch and headed off to my first post- op doctor appointment, a room full of beautiful, abundant, glowing pregnant ladies and a few late in life ladies. I sat with the late in life ladies. I read a senior magazine on bone density, I couldnt bring myself to look at all the Pregnancy and Conception Magazines. I texted my sister, sending out a plea for a lifeline. Quick, make me laugh, distract me, pray for me, save me from myself right now. Then they called my name and off I went to speak with my fabulous doctor.
It was a great check-up, I have to say I have bounced back rather nicely. But he had pictures and discussion for me. Oh I was expecting it but still so not ready for it. My hysterectomy was a direct result of mistakes made from my c-section; I think I have shared that before but if I havent, there it is. And I saw close-up in color pictures of the mistakes, pictures of my damaged womb, my damaged ovary and tubes. And I learned the damage was more extensive than I had originally thought. I dont mind gore, blood, organs, tissue, doesnt bother me in the least. But I have to say seeing my organs and the damage was shocking, upsetting. I have a wonderful surgeon who was able to repair what he could and remove what he couldnt. I am caught up in the removal, in the loss, in the senselessness and the carelessness of it. Preventable, all preventable, and I am not sure how to wrap my mind around that. But you see today I was reminded life is about how you react to the moments. The damage done to my body was in a moment, in that same moment I received the gift of a miracle, my beautiful baby boy. Oh I have heard it so many times over the last two years, "Just be glad you have Caleb, focus on that and dont worry about the rest." It's so hurtful when someone else recommends, even sometimes demands, that you move on. But it is beautiful and freeing, when you, your self can move on. My moment was at least two-fold, loss and blessing. What an interesting dynamic to come to terms with.
I told you of the pictures, I have several sheets of them. My doctor was kind enough to make me copies. I had them on the counter at home. Seneca was fascinated by them, asking what organs were what and where the incisions were made. Sierra was disturbed and covered her eyes and could not look. And my sweet Vanny, standing in the middle of both of them, stealing glances and then hugging me after each look at the pictures; my reassurer. This scene with the girls, struck such a chord with me. I've been like each girl in the midst of this struggle. Most often like Sierra, not ready to fully deal, avoiding. Sometimes like Vanny, diving in for a look, for a reality check and then pulling back, all the while reassuring myself and others. And recently more like my logical, realist Senny. Let's look it in the face and see what we are dealing with, no fear, no disgust, just focused interest and introspect. A key to moving on, at least a step in the right direction.
I'm so thankful I have beautiful amazing friends who share their lives with me. I am so blessed by my wonderful girls and the promptings they give to my spirit on a continual basis. I am amazed by the gift, the miracle of my sweet boy. It makes dealing with loss and ache much easier.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Not just the pretty girl in a dress
Yesterday, I wore a dress and high heels and make-up and hairspray to church. I looked great and felt misleading to some extent. I'm such a jeans and t-shirt kinda girl, I probably wear a dress or skirt six or seven times a year, hairspray even less! Because of my surgical incisions, I did not want to wear jeans yet, I was concerned the waistband would rub against my stitches. So my choices were sweats (and only rough looking ones because the others were unlaundered, aka dirty) or a dress. Now to be completely forthcoming,I could so get by with sweats at my church, it isn't about a dress code there. In fact, I think in the past I have worn sweats on days I was teaching Sunday school and I do tend to rock my WVu sweatshirt in the fall after great victories. I chose the dress and the hairspray and lipstick and heels because I wanted to look nice, more than nice, womanly, pretty again. Realizing in some ways this surgery has robbed me of some of that feeling of womanly or youthful confidence. And before you start to think I am completely shallow and vain for spending a paragraph on what I wore to church, hold on I am going somewhere with this.
I wore the dress most of the day, rocked the dress, but the whole time I was in it I was internally crying out for my jeans and t-shirt. (and flip flops; the weather was springy yesterday!)
In a way the dress felt ingeniune, something I put on that did not represent me, embody me. Now I am a girl who doesn't struggle too much with body image issues or beauty issues. I am quite comfortable in my skin, not constantly comparing myself to others. I know I have flaws but I tend to focus on my attributes. I am not sure how or where I picked up body image confidence; my struggle is more with personality insecurities. I was completely comfortable with how I looked in the dress, that wasn't the issue. What was vexatious about my appearance yesterday was that I felt like it was not a true representation of me, or it wasn't the me I wanted to present. I wanted the ponytail and the fresh face and the jeans and flip flops.
Those features or items speak comfort to me and I am all about comfort in every aspect of my life. I desire to be cozy and warm. But more than that I am a giver of comfort, of calm. Several years ago I recognized I had an inclination to encourage people. I can very easily walk alongside individuals and support and cheer for them. I believe it is a gift I have that has helped in many of my relationships. It has helped to make me a good mother, a good friend, even in management when I worked outside of the home. I think it even comes out in my writing. I have this desire to see people where they are, love them there and encourage them to strive for more and believe for more. So for the past five or six years I have worked on this gifting or this personality trait. I am an encourager, it is a central part of who I am. I will also go as far to as to say the last four or five years most of my encouragement has pointed people towards my faith, towards Jesus, towards hope in a living,loving God.
I sat in church yesterday in my fun wrap dress and heels, feeling completely at a loss of who I am, feeling unauthentic, even in my dress, but more so in my faith, in my personality, and in my life right now. Struggling with a desire to still want to encourage others; yet I am so disheartened in my own faith and the reality of my life lately. I would not go so far as to say I am faking anything. I can still feel beautiful and fun in a dress. I don't believe I am faking the faith either. My faith is still there, it just seems so distant and marred right now. It's more than a choice of dress, it's more than a discouraging feeling.
Who am I as a mother, a friend, a daughter, as a woman when I am in the midst of struggle and unquiet in my faith, in my life? Me who gives calm and quiet, who points towards peace yet doesn't feel the peace herself?
I know others have solutions for this, some answers have touched me, others aggravated me. I feel a pushing and a pulling along as if someone else can just drag me back into an accord. Right now in my life there is struggle and dissatisfaction and anger and frustration, loss. I guess the thing I can still pull from my faith, still rely on is that there is hope. All of this will be worked out but I get to be who I am, in the midst of my struggle, in the day to day of my life, all of who I am,not just the pretty girl in a dress.
http://holdonandbelieve.blogspot.com/
I wore the dress most of the day, rocked the dress, but the whole time I was in it I was internally crying out for my jeans and t-shirt. (and flip flops; the weather was springy yesterday!)
In a way the dress felt ingeniune, something I put on that did not represent me, embody me. Now I am a girl who doesn't struggle too much with body image issues or beauty issues. I am quite comfortable in my skin, not constantly comparing myself to others. I know I have flaws but I tend to focus on my attributes. I am not sure how or where I picked up body image confidence; my struggle is more with personality insecurities. I was completely comfortable with how I looked in the dress, that wasn't the issue. What was vexatious about my appearance yesterday was that I felt like it was not a true representation of me, or it wasn't the me I wanted to present. I wanted the ponytail and the fresh face and the jeans and flip flops.
Those features or items speak comfort to me and I am all about comfort in every aspect of my life. I desire to be cozy and warm. But more than that I am a giver of comfort, of calm. Several years ago I recognized I had an inclination to encourage people. I can very easily walk alongside individuals and support and cheer for them. I believe it is a gift I have that has helped in many of my relationships. It has helped to make me a good mother, a good friend, even in management when I worked outside of the home. I think it even comes out in my writing. I have this desire to see people where they are, love them there and encourage them to strive for more and believe for more. So for the past five or six years I have worked on this gifting or this personality trait. I am an encourager, it is a central part of who I am. I will also go as far to as to say the last four or five years most of my encouragement has pointed people towards my faith, towards Jesus, towards hope in a living,loving God.
I sat in church yesterday in my fun wrap dress and heels, feeling completely at a loss of who I am, feeling unauthentic, even in my dress, but more so in my faith, in my personality, and in my life right now. Struggling with a desire to still want to encourage others; yet I am so disheartened in my own faith and the reality of my life lately. I would not go so far as to say I am faking anything. I can still feel beautiful and fun in a dress. I don't believe I am faking the faith either. My faith is still there, it just seems so distant and marred right now. It's more than a choice of dress, it's more than a discouraging feeling.
Who am I as a mother, a friend, a daughter, as a woman when I am in the midst of struggle and unquiet in my faith, in my life? Me who gives calm and quiet, who points towards peace yet doesn't feel the peace herself?
I know others have solutions for this, some answers have touched me, others aggravated me. I feel a pushing and a pulling along as if someone else can just drag me back into an accord. Right now in my life there is struggle and dissatisfaction and anger and frustration, loss. I guess the thing I can still pull from my faith, still rely on is that there is hope. All of this will be worked out but I get to be who I am, in the midst of my struggle, in the day to day of my life, all of who I am,not just the pretty girl in a dress.
http://holdonandbelieve.blogspot.com/
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Post op
I took a very long shower this morning, hoping the hot water would help some of the aches and pain I am having. I am almost a week into my recovery from surgery and doing rather well on most days, most hours of the day. I think today I have had a minor setback, I attempted to do too much activity yesterday and my body is protesting.
I have been sore and I tire easily, I am also slightly stir crazy and antsy. My mom has been here taking care of the kids, of the housework and beautiful friends have been bringing dinner nightly. I have felt my body responding to the rest, to the medication, felt it start to heal and repair. Today as I stood in the shower I realized it was the first day my abdomen was not swollen, the bruising is starting to fade but not the scars. It's so funny, I was so upset after my c-section about my incision scar. It was devastating to see it, I hid it from others. Now I have four new scars, all much smaller, but still present. The girls all grimaced when they saw my stomach, black and purple with three new bandages and a very funny looking belly button incision. "Poor mommy," Vanny said..."and this time you don't even get a baby for the cutting on your stomach." Her tender heart, her sweet little innocence, and the truth of her statement. No more babies for me, just bruises and scarring.
More than anything I have pain where my ovary was, I am not sure if it is just physical or also emotional pain. I have been so tired that I haven't spent much time on the emotional damage from my surgery. But I know it's there. Standing in the shower today, noticing my abdomen and my scars, new and old, I felt loss and sadness. My c-section scar for so long was a vivid reminder of how my life was quickly torn, changed. The scar was jagged and long and ugly, jarring every time I glanced at it. The scars from my hysterectomy are smaller, more methodical and planned. In some ways that helps. I had no control over the damage done to my body from Caleb's birth. I could never resent actions that saved my life and my son's, but the method and the unskilled, rushed manner in which his surgery was done, I did resent and cry over. Weep over. I chose my surgeon for my hysterectomy, I chose my hospital, I chose how much and the procedure for the surgery. Obviously there were still a few unknowns going into the surgery but nothing was rushed or chaotic.
When I woke from anesthesia after Caleb was born, all I could ask is if he was alive, over and over. When I awoke from this last surgery, I asked the nurse over and over, "Did he take both ovaries or just one?" I was fuzzy and having a hard time remembering, she told me she was going to write it down because I asked so many times. Obviously wanting to know if my son lived is more critical, more important but both questions to me speak of life. I did not want to lose both of my ovaries, I felt it would change my life in a manner I was not willing to embrace at 32. Thankfully, luckily, I did not lose both of my ovaries. Only one and both of my tubes and my uterus but I already knew that, I ad already accepted the loss of my uterus. I knew going into the surgery, that my womb would be gone, I was willing to accept that loss because I knew it was necessary. I was not willing to accept the loss of both ovaries, of the instant onset of menopause. I was so worried about how it would change me as a young woman. The loss of both tubes was slightly shocking, I had to say, "wait, what?" a few times in recovery. It seems a little silly now, why worry about tubes if you don't have a womb, if you cant carry a baby anyway, anymore. It was more just wanting to hold onto anything womanly of me that I could, anything that was not damaged from my c-section. So everything is cleaned up, in a manner of speaking. My hope is that as I heal from the surgery, no more issues or pain will arise. In a few months, a year, I will feel completely better and it will all be a distant memory. I wont feel damaged on the inside or still in pain from a surgery that happened almost two years ago. I hope, as friends who have had hysterectomies have shared, that I will feel better than I have ever felt. My c-section scar is still there on the outside, even though most of the internal scar tissue has been removed. I seem to grow more used to it each day, it isn't quite as jarring and obvious, it's just another part of me. I hope the same will be true for my other new scars as they heal and fade. I do feel a sadness and a letdown about the need for a hysterectomy at 32 but reaching a point of acceptance is a little easier than it was after my c-section.
I really feel I could go deeper into examining and explaining all of this. Both surgeries were life-altering to me. I am sure as I continue to heal I will revisit these thoughts but right now although, sore and very tired, I feel a sense of relief, and a sense of appreciation for my body. I have carried four beautiful children, I am very blessed. That part of my body's job description is over but I still get to be a mother who carries them in her heart and soon, as soon as my stitches heal, in my arms again. I still get to be a young woman who loves and nurtures and nothing can change that.
I have been sore and I tire easily, I am also slightly stir crazy and antsy. My mom has been here taking care of the kids, of the housework and beautiful friends have been bringing dinner nightly. I have felt my body responding to the rest, to the medication, felt it start to heal and repair. Today as I stood in the shower I realized it was the first day my abdomen was not swollen, the bruising is starting to fade but not the scars. It's so funny, I was so upset after my c-section about my incision scar. It was devastating to see it, I hid it from others. Now I have four new scars, all much smaller, but still present. The girls all grimaced when they saw my stomach, black and purple with three new bandages and a very funny looking belly button incision. "Poor mommy," Vanny said..."and this time you don't even get a baby for the cutting on your stomach." Her tender heart, her sweet little innocence, and the truth of her statement. No more babies for me, just bruises and scarring.
More than anything I have pain where my ovary was, I am not sure if it is just physical or also emotional pain. I have been so tired that I haven't spent much time on the emotional damage from my surgery. But I know it's there. Standing in the shower today, noticing my abdomen and my scars, new and old, I felt loss and sadness. My c-section scar for so long was a vivid reminder of how my life was quickly torn, changed. The scar was jagged and long and ugly, jarring every time I glanced at it. The scars from my hysterectomy are smaller, more methodical and planned. In some ways that helps. I had no control over the damage done to my body from Caleb's birth. I could never resent actions that saved my life and my son's, but the method and the unskilled, rushed manner in which his surgery was done, I did resent and cry over. Weep over. I chose my surgeon for my hysterectomy, I chose my hospital, I chose how much and the procedure for the surgery. Obviously there were still a few unknowns going into the surgery but nothing was rushed or chaotic.
When I woke from anesthesia after Caleb was born, all I could ask is if he was alive, over and over. When I awoke from this last surgery, I asked the nurse over and over, "Did he take both ovaries or just one?" I was fuzzy and having a hard time remembering, she told me she was going to write it down because I asked so many times. Obviously wanting to know if my son lived is more critical, more important but both questions to me speak of life. I did not want to lose both of my ovaries, I felt it would change my life in a manner I was not willing to embrace at 32. Thankfully, luckily, I did not lose both of my ovaries. Only one and both of my tubes and my uterus but I already knew that, I ad already accepted the loss of my uterus. I knew going into the surgery, that my womb would be gone, I was willing to accept that loss because I knew it was necessary. I was not willing to accept the loss of both ovaries, of the instant onset of menopause. I was so worried about how it would change me as a young woman. The loss of both tubes was slightly shocking, I had to say, "wait, what?" a few times in recovery. It seems a little silly now, why worry about tubes if you don't have a womb, if you cant carry a baby anyway, anymore. It was more just wanting to hold onto anything womanly of me that I could, anything that was not damaged from my c-section. So everything is cleaned up, in a manner of speaking. My hope is that as I heal from the surgery, no more issues or pain will arise. In a few months, a year, I will feel completely better and it will all be a distant memory. I wont feel damaged on the inside or still in pain from a surgery that happened almost two years ago. I hope, as friends who have had hysterectomies have shared, that I will feel better than I have ever felt. My c-section scar is still there on the outside, even though most of the internal scar tissue has been removed. I seem to grow more used to it each day, it isn't quite as jarring and obvious, it's just another part of me. I hope the same will be true for my other new scars as they heal and fade. I do feel a sadness and a letdown about the need for a hysterectomy at 32 but reaching a point of acceptance is a little easier than it was after my c-section.
I really feel I could go deeper into examining and explaining all of this. Both surgeries were life-altering to me. I am sure as I continue to heal I will revisit these thoughts but right now although, sore and very tired, I feel a sense of relief, and a sense of appreciation for my body. I have carried four beautiful children, I am very blessed. That part of my body's job description is over but I still get to be a mother who carries them in her heart and soon, as soon as my stitches heal, in my arms again. I still get to be a young woman who loves and nurtures and nothing can change that.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Big day
So I am getting ready for bed, very BIG day tomorrow. I felt like I had to take a minute and recongnize it. I have to be at the hospital even earlier now, my surgery was pushed up. I will be leaving my house before six am. I know crazy, I am so not a morning person! I have spent more time today prepping for the surgeon, well surgery, than I have ever spent on getting ready for a date! I painted my toenails red today, an outward sign that my sexiness was not going to be lost by the removal of a womb or ovaries. Guess what, you cant wear nail polish into surgery. Guess I should have read my pre-op instructions a little better!
I spent the day running around like crazy, nervous energy was very high today and helped me accomplish much. I organzied my laundry room, did six loads of laundry, baked muffins, made 2 meatloafs plus dinner, and several other things. I also spent the day soaking up time with the kids. Caleb was cuddly and in want of me all day. I talked with Vanny for a long time about her favorite subjects, Mario, Luigi and Princess Peach. I posed for pictures for CC. And my sweet little Senny Sunshine could not let me go earlier. It was dreamy to hold my second grader on my lap and cuddle. She is very logistical and pragmatic, so of course she wanted to know what happens if surgery doesn't go well. Thanks Senny, just what I wanted to hear. But, I smiled as I searched for the right answer to give because this is my Senny, my realist. Gosh, she is so much like me. I didnt have a right answer, all I could say is that I trusted my doctor and I trusted that God was watching over us. Simplistic and honest answer and so now at 12:14 am I am going to go to bed believing that statement as well.
Well ok, I am going to bed as soon as I switch my sweats over to the dryer from the wash. It's sweats for me for a few days or weeks. Good thing I look great in sweats because for a girl worried about losing her sexyness sweats dont usually do much for the self-esteem!
I have great friends who have sent prayers and emails and love. My mom is here to care for Caleb tomorrow and the girls as well if school happens to be cancelled again. My dad drove down just to see me, well mostly his grandkids, but it's nice to be loved like that. My brothers have called, my sister has calmed my nerves and made me laugh a few times today. And Ja will be driving my crabby, sleepy, nervous butt to the hospital bright and early. I am hoping it is an easy wait for him, I know last surgical time it was not.
Thanks for all the well wishes everyone!
I spent the day running around like crazy, nervous energy was very high today and helped me accomplish much. I organzied my laundry room, did six loads of laundry, baked muffins, made 2 meatloafs plus dinner, and several other things. I also spent the day soaking up time with the kids. Caleb was cuddly and in want of me all day. I talked with Vanny for a long time about her favorite subjects, Mario, Luigi and Princess Peach. I posed for pictures for CC. And my sweet little Senny Sunshine could not let me go earlier. It was dreamy to hold my second grader on my lap and cuddle. She is very logistical and pragmatic, so of course she wanted to know what happens if surgery doesn't go well. Thanks Senny, just what I wanted to hear. But, I smiled as I searched for the right answer to give because this is my Senny, my realist. Gosh, she is so much like me. I didnt have a right answer, all I could say is that I trusted my doctor and I trusted that God was watching over us. Simplistic and honest answer and so now at 12:14 am I am going to go to bed believing that statement as well.
Well ok, I am going to bed as soon as I switch my sweats over to the dryer from the wash. It's sweats for me for a few days or weeks. Good thing I look great in sweats because for a girl worried about losing her sexyness sweats dont usually do much for the self-esteem!
I have great friends who have sent prayers and emails and love. My mom is here to care for Caleb tomorrow and the girls as well if school happens to be cancelled again. My dad drove down just to see me, well mostly his grandkids, but it's nice to be loved like that. My brothers have called, my sister has calmed my nerves and made me laugh a few times today. And Ja will be driving my crabby, sleepy, nervous butt to the hospital bright and early. I am hoping it is an easy wait for him, I know last surgical time it was not.
Thanks for all the well wishes everyone!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
safe place to fall
A friend of mine told me to just relax and get through this week and so I am trying...It's hard, it is a struggle because I know my life is changing on Friday. My life is also about to be put on hold for a few weeks as well. I am not sure if I want to embrace change, avoid it, or fight it. I am attempting to not avoid it but I am not fully embracing the change that is imminent.
My surgery is Friday. It came together rather quickly. Yesterday I went to the hospital for pre-operative testing. I also sat my girls down and explained as well as I could what was about to happen. It was a hard day. My girls have surpised me, they are handling things much better than I expected. It helps that their aunt has planned a lovely, fun weekend for them so they should not be too distracted with worries over their momma.
Walking into the surgical unit yesterday did a number on me. I had to go in the bathroom to regain composure, I even had to call Mar because I couldn't calm down. I caught a glimpse of two doctors coming out of surgery and all these horrible memories flooded me and panic set in. I could not catch my breath. I calmed down enough for my testing, fun fun needles, and received my pre-op instructions and I was out of there. I decided to call my surgeon and he was able to further reassure me. Sometimes I think you just need to express your fears and concerns and have someone listen and respond honestly. No brush-offs or diminishing of feelings and fear, just the ability to be heard; it is amazing the feeling of comfort that can bring.
I was panicked about the actual surgery more than anything. I was concerned about all that could go wrong, the chaos that could happen, the indifference that I have experienced before, the painful recovery, the time of feeling desperately alone and afraid. Those concerns are now, if not fully relieved, at least mostly. I trust my doctor and I have expressed my need for kid glove treatment. I cannot cope with rushed and indifferent medical staff again.
Now I am not panicked about the surgery. Also, I am not overly fearful of the ramifications of a hysterectomy to someone of my age. I am aware of the risks but I am more hopeful that surgery will help than fearful the surgery will harm.
And so I am not sure why I am sitting here today struggling with the thought of change. For so long, the last two years, I have had to be strong, it was necessary for my family. I am feeling incredibly weak and anticpating the need to ask for help and rely on help and stay in a position of weakness and dependence. I am not embracing this change. It's against my nature to accept help, I dont even like for anyone to help me figure out a move on Spider Solitaire!
I am looking forward to my mom coming down. I have planned out the menu of my favorite foods for her to cook. There is nothing like my mom when I am sick. But I cant seem to get past that easy physcial need to giving in and giving over my other needs. The need for comfort, the need to be heard, the need to be taken care of, the need for the kid glove treatment. It's hard for me to relinquish those needs into someone else's hands. I have always been very good at taking care of myself. I like being capable and not needy. But now I wont have that luxury, at least for a few weeks. Someone else will be doing Caleb's therapy and carrying my baby boy. Someone else will be comforting and cuddling my sweet little girls.
I am sure all of it will be frustrating for me. I am not the best patient. I am not the best student. I spent today cleaning up my bedroom, finding movies and books to occupy my time while I recouperate, attempting to make my bed a safe place to rest, hoping I will have a safe place to fall.
My surgery is Friday. It came together rather quickly. Yesterday I went to the hospital for pre-operative testing. I also sat my girls down and explained as well as I could what was about to happen. It was a hard day. My girls have surpised me, they are handling things much better than I expected. It helps that their aunt has planned a lovely, fun weekend for them so they should not be too distracted with worries over their momma.
Walking into the surgical unit yesterday did a number on me. I had to go in the bathroom to regain composure, I even had to call Mar because I couldn't calm down. I caught a glimpse of two doctors coming out of surgery and all these horrible memories flooded me and panic set in. I could not catch my breath. I calmed down enough for my testing, fun fun needles, and received my pre-op instructions and I was out of there. I decided to call my surgeon and he was able to further reassure me. Sometimes I think you just need to express your fears and concerns and have someone listen and respond honestly. No brush-offs or diminishing of feelings and fear, just the ability to be heard; it is amazing the feeling of comfort that can bring.
I was panicked about the actual surgery more than anything. I was concerned about all that could go wrong, the chaos that could happen, the indifference that I have experienced before, the painful recovery, the time of feeling desperately alone and afraid. Those concerns are now, if not fully relieved, at least mostly. I trust my doctor and I have expressed my need for kid glove treatment. I cannot cope with rushed and indifferent medical staff again.
Now I am not panicked about the surgery. Also, I am not overly fearful of the ramifications of a hysterectomy to someone of my age. I am aware of the risks but I am more hopeful that surgery will help than fearful the surgery will harm.
And so I am not sure why I am sitting here today struggling with the thought of change. For so long, the last two years, I have had to be strong, it was necessary for my family. I am feeling incredibly weak and anticpating the need to ask for help and rely on help and stay in a position of weakness and dependence. I am not embracing this change. It's against my nature to accept help, I dont even like for anyone to help me figure out a move on Spider Solitaire!
I am looking forward to my mom coming down. I have planned out the menu of my favorite foods for her to cook. There is nothing like my mom when I am sick. But I cant seem to get past that easy physcial need to giving in and giving over my other needs. The need for comfort, the need to be heard, the need to be taken care of, the need for the kid glove treatment. It's hard for me to relinquish those needs into someone else's hands. I have always been very good at taking care of myself. I like being capable and not needy. But now I wont have that luxury, at least for a few weeks. Someone else will be doing Caleb's therapy and carrying my baby boy. Someone else will be comforting and cuddling my sweet little girls.
I am sure all of it will be frustrating for me. I am not the best patient. I am not the best student. I spent today cleaning up my bedroom, finding movies and books to occupy my time while I recouperate, attempting to make my bed a safe place to rest, hoping I will have a safe place to fall.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The acceptance of a friend
I have this friend, an amazing girlfriend I have known since second grade. We were acquaintances, classmates until our senior year of high school. That year we took an AP Biology class first thing in the morning. It was an interesting dynamic, 3 girls, 3 boys and probably the best high school science teacher out there. The class was competitve, the coursework was challenging and in that atmosphere our friendship blossommed. At times we excelled, other times we slacked off together. We still talk about that class, about that year and how it solidified our friendship.
We went our seperate ways for college but still remained in contact. She was there to celebrate when I became engaged, complete with complimentary and embarrassing blow-up doll and other silly gifts. She was there the day of my wedding, the one who did my hair and make-up and made me look gorgeous. She was also the one driving me to the chapel, asking if I was sure and offering a last minute trip to the beach instead. You may think, well that isn't supportive but I would strongly disagree. For me this girl, this friend, was saying, "No matter what, I am here. Nothing you could do would surprise me or shock me out of being here for you."
Loyalty and honesty, the two traits that have carried our friendship throughout the years. I chose the marriage/mommy route and she chose the career route. The two are not mutually exclusive but they were the roles we chose to play in our lives. Our lives became busier, we didn't talk every day or even every few months but there was always an ease when contact was made again. We could pick up right where we left off. There were no expectations placed on the friendship.
Flash forward to the birth of my first daughter. She was born in the middle of the night. Jason left early in the morning, around 5 to grab a bite to eat and refresh himself. I was in the hospital room alone with my baby for the first time. I began to panic, feeling an unnerving amount of fear and insecurity about my new role as a mother. How in the world was I going to manage caring for a tiny little baby? Overwhelmed with my feelings of ineptness, I picked up the phone. I could have called my mom or my husband but I knew exactly who to call. I dialed her number and woke her at 5:30 am to share the news. I still remember to this day our conversation. After a few minutes of adjusting to the early hour, she was so reassuring and sure of me, more sure than I was at the moment. And I knew I could trust her, trust her judgement. I began to relax and trust in myself and embrace this new role of a mother without insecurity.
Our friendship is not one sided; she would be the first to confirm that. I have also received my share of phone calls over the years from her. I hope I have given her the same sense of understanding and acceptance that she has given to me. Occasionally we are lucky enough to get together for drinks or dinner but these are few and widespread moments. Our friendship survives on phone tag and a willingness to be flexible,honest and open.
Just yesterday we talked and we laughed and shared stories. I told her of my latest confessional. I may not be the feminist I thought I was! I uttered a phrase over the weekend I never imagined I would say. In frustration I told my husband to..."be the man already and make the decision!" I think before I had even finished the sentence my face was red and I was trying to pull my words back in. She and I laughed over this statement but we also discussed it in seriousness. I needed to say that I was feeling a need to be taken care of. Gulp. Cringe. Release of control. I can laugh about it now but in the moment I was appalled at my statement, and my husband was equally taken back.
I dont know if anyone else can relate but I have a hard time relinquishing control. I also put immense pressure on myself to be strong, to be on top of things, to be in charge. In that statement, so against my nature, I was expressing a need for release. I am struggling with the dynamic of change and control right now in my life. The desire to have struggles taken care of for me, although agaisnt my nature, is very strong for me right now.
It was not until I could talk and laugh with a friend that I gained new perspective on this need for rest in my life. At first, I struggled and rebelled against admitting this desire. I was embarrassed and slightly irked at my weakness. However, through laughter and openness with a friend I was given fresh perspective and was able to stop judging myself and breathe a sigh of relief.
It isn't weak to admit when you are overwhelmed. It isn't weakness to ask and accept help. It isn't weakness to relinquish control and expectation to someone you trust and love. Often times for me the control is more about remaining safe and avoiding vulnerabilty. I feel completely naked and vulnerable in my life right now; in my role as a mother and also just as a woman. Circumstances and events have troubled me, rattled me. In talking with my friend, in being unguarded and truthful, I was able to feel a sense of relief, a reprieve, and a validation of my self.
Sometimes I think we just need someone else, someone outside our situation to provide fresh perspective, new insight. It's wonderful when that person is a friend, one who says, "Nothing you can do or say would shock me out of being here for you!" Life is much easier when you can be vulnerable and real and still be supported and accepted.
www.holdonandbelieve/blogspot.com
We went our seperate ways for college but still remained in contact. She was there to celebrate when I became engaged, complete with complimentary and embarrassing blow-up doll and other silly gifts. She was there the day of my wedding, the one who did my hair and make-up and made me look gorgeous. She was also the one driving me to the chapel, asking if I was sure and offering a last minute trip to the beach instead. You may think, well that isn't supportive but I would strongly disagree. For me this girl, this friend, was saying, "No matter what, I am here. Nothing you could do would surprise me or shock me out of being here for you."
Loyalty and honesty, the two traits that have carried our friendship throughout the years. I chose the marriage/mommy route and she chose the career route. The two are not mutually exclusive but they were the roles we chose to play in our lives. Our lives became busier, we didn't talk every day or even every few months but there was always an ease when contact was made again. We could pick up right where we left off. There were no expectations placed on the friendship.
Flash forward to the birth of my first daughter. She was born in the middle of the night. Jason left early in the morning, around 5 to grab a bite to eat and refresh himself. I was in the hospital room alone with my baby for the first time. I began to panic, feeling an unnerving amount of fear and insecurity about my new role as a mother. How in the world was I going to manage caring for a tiny little baby? Overwhelmed with my feelings of ineptness, I picked up the phone. I could have called my mom or my husband but I knew exactly who to call. I dialed her number and woke her at 5:30 am to share the news. I still remember to this day our conversation. After a few minutes of adjusting to the early hour, she was so reassuring and sure of me, more sure than I was at the moment. And I knew I could trust her, trust her judgement. I began to relax and trust in myself and embrace this new role of a mother without insecurity.
Our friendship is not one sided; she would be the first to confirm that. I have also received my share of phone calls over the years from her. I hope I have given her the same sense of understanding and acceptance that she has given to me. Occasionally we are lucky enough to get together for drinks or dinner but these are few and widespread moments. Our friendship survives on phone tag and a willingness to be flexible,honest and open.
Just yesterday we talked and we laughed and shared stories. I told her of my latest confessional. I may not be the feminist I thought I was! I uttered a phrase over the weekend I never imagined I would say. In frustration I told my husband to..."be the man already and make the decision!" I think before I had even finished the sentence my face was red and I was trying to pull my words back in. She and I laughed over this statement but we also discussed it in seriousness. I needed to say that I was feeling a need to be taken care of. Gulp. Cringe. Release of control. I can laugh about it now but in the moment I was appalled at my statement, and my husband was equally taken back.
I dont know if anyone else can relate but I have a hard time relinquishing control. I also put immense pressure on myself to be strong, to be on top of things, to be in charge. In that statement, so against my nature, I was expressing a need for release. I am struggling with the dynamic of change and control right now in my life. The desire to have struggles taken care of for me, although agaisnt my nature, is very strong for me right now.
It was not until I could talk and laugh with a friend that I gained new perspective on this need for rest in my life. At first, I struggled and rebelled against admitting this desire. I was embarrassed and slightly irked at my weakness. However, through laughter and openness with a friend I was given fresh perspective and was able to stop judging myself and breathe a sigh of relief.
It isn't weak to admit when you are overwhelmed. It isn't weakness to ask and accept help. It isn't weakness to relinquish control and expectation to someone you trust and love. Often times for me the control is more about remaining safe and avoiding vulnerabilty. I feel completely naked and vulnerable in my life right now; in my role as a mother and also just as a woman. Circumstances and events have troubled me, rattled me. In talking with my friend, in being unguarded and truthful, I was able to feel a sense of relief, a reprieve, and a validation of my self.
Sometimes I think we just need someone else, someone outside our situation to provide fresh perspective, new insight. It's wonderful when that person is a friend, one who says, "Nothing you can do or say would shock me out of being here for you!" Life is much easier when you can be vulnerable and real and still be supported and accepted.
www.holdonandbelieve/blogspot.com
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