|
 |
 |
|
WELCOME, GUEST |
|
|
| |
 |
 |
 |
(2 members)
|
 |
 |
GABYMENDEZ6 |
 |
|
|
theAgirls6 |
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
DJ JAZZY JUDE
saffron |
|
| Category: Home | Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat | | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 |
|
|
|
|
JIG OF LIFE
|
|
Oct 06, 2008 05:03pm (EST)
Happy birthday Donovan!!!
It's been two years. Two years since I found myself on the floor of my kitchen trying desperately to hold on long enough for someone to come home and find me. I was beyond being able to help myself. All I could do was hold on, hang on, and wait.
I said in my last post that I have a lot of ambivalence toward today. It's not that I'm wishy-washy about it - because it's much more manic than that. Really high highs and some pretty low lows. It makes me think of a Tale of Two Cities. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was one of the best days of my life, but it was hands-down the absolute worst day I've ever had. So, I've been bouncing off the walls so to speak. One moment revelling in the beauty of life. In the joy of living. In the fact that I'm alive. The next moment feeling overwhelmed and emotional and just plain sad.
And though it still doesn't resolve anything, I've been trying to figure out how and why I survived. How and why Donovan survived. I called myself lucky last week and the receptionist at work said that I wasn't lucky - I was blessed. My boss chalked it up to "force of will". I don't know. I think myself around in circles. In the end, I guess it's all of these things. You can embrace the totality of life in one day. It was extreme all the way around.
I am profoundly grateful to be here. I am profoundly grateful that my son is here. Blessed? Lucky? Willful? I guess in the end I just have to be. Because I still am.
Jenn
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (6) | Permalink
|
|
|
CAN'T IGNORE THE TRAIN
|
|
Sep 18, 2008 11:18pm (EST)
If I spent half as much time writing as I do thinking about writing, I'd have a shelf full of books by now....
Last week as we all know was the anniversary of 9/11. In September of 2001, I was about 2 months pregnant with my first child. I remember that whole morning and the days that followed vividly. I remember the emptiness of the sky. No airplanes. At the time we lived under the flight path of planes landing and taking off from the Burbank Airport. For those few days, we didn't hear a thing. Silence. We also didn't see the familiar white trails of the larger jets coming up over the valley from LAX. The sky was absolutely, almost breathtakingly blue. No clouds. Nothing.
9/11 for me was largely about absence. That absence crept into my emotions as well. The tragedy. The tears. The uncertainty. So far away. The loss was outside of me - I almost couldn't feel it. It was too enormous to take in. And my body, my mind were focused on the tiny life that was taking shape within. I still feel that my body wouldn't let me react to 9/11. It was Important - but I couldn't let myself give in completely to the feelings. The loss. The sorrow.
Seven years later, I marked the anniversary of 9/11 by watching the show "101 Minutes that Changed America" on the History Channel. It was a documentary culled from tapes made by New Yorkers who witnessed the events as they unfolded. Normal people who just pulled out a camera and filmed history. It reminded me of what it felt like to watch it live as it was happening. I remember wondering how they were going to put out those fires - never imagining that the fires would ultimately bring down the entire buildings.
As I was watching, my older son, Aidan - the one who was only an embryo back in 2001 - walked in. He wanted to know what was happening. I thought about changing the channel, but decided to try to explain it instead. I envied him for a moment. The innocence. The fact that he didn't know there ever was such a thing as the World Trade Center. But I decided I could level with him. That innocence is wonderful - but it can't last forever.
He was interested. I told him about the buildings. About the fact that planes hit them. That people, many people, got out and got away from the buildings but that some, too many, did not. We talked about why people were scared. Why some people were crying. Why some people were running. Why some people were just looking. He saw the footage of the first building collapsing. I wasn't sure if he was "ready" for this - but I tried to gauge his responses and questions. To read him as we talked.
He reacted well. He was curious but not frightened. He understood on some levels. As much as he needs to or can at this point. We talked for maybe 20 minutes and then he was off to do something mundane, fun - unimportant in the grand scheme of things - but utterly and completely important to him.
I worried that I had told him too much. Too little. Not the right things. I was worried that he saw too much. I was worried because the world is a scary place and I can't protect him always. In the end though, I was very glad I told him.
Aidan loves, LOVES trains. All things trains. 9/11 was last Thursday. On Friday, we got home from school, work and daycare. I was preoccupied with thoughts of Hurricane Ike. I had heard a lot of sirens in the last hour and thought absently that something big must have happened closer to home. I walk into my house and a friend says "oh, did you hear about the train wreck in Chatsworth?"
What? No. I hadn't heard about it, but I realized all of the sudden that I had actually heard it. The crash. The sirens. All Aidan heard was the word train and he wanted to see. I turn on the news and they have aerial photos of the crash. A commuter train. A freight train - "Union Pacific" - Aidan says. 6 people confirmed dead, but more expected. An open triage area. White sheets over bodies. Unedited LIVE footage of people who have just been in a train wreck. Graphic. But Aidan is riveted. My heart sinks as I watch. Here it is again - tragedy unfolding live and all I can do is watch.
But I know that this too is life. This too is reality. I want to protect him. But I also want him to know. Life is precious. Trains, and buildings, and planes -- they are all awesome and powerful and neat and beautiful. But.... But.
And I think now. I think about Donovan. One day I will tell him about his birth. I will explain the ambivalence I feel on October 6. I will explain what it means that life can be awesome and powerful and neat and beautiful, but awful and scary and overwhelming and ugly all at the same time. Life is precious. Everyone's life is precious.
I honor and mourn every life that was lost on September 11, 2001 and September 12, 2008.
Jenn
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (2) | Permalink
|
|
|
OCTOBER...
|
|
Sep 08, 2008 05:36pm (EST)
Oh, it's been sooo long.... But, I have finally got all of my plans finalized for the VLC and ShareUnion. And I've even managed to somehow add a work-related side trip into my stay in Houston. So on the morning of October 17, I will be making a classroom visit in Houston. Exciting!
I look forward to seeing everyone again. And I hope to meet some of you for the first time, too!
On the homefront, Donovan is getting Early Intervention and will soon start speech therapy. He has a few words and seems to understand a lot of what we say. He talks a lot - but he's not saying many recognizable words. He will be 2 in a month - on October 6. Considering his start, I can only be grateful about how lucky we've been.
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (4) | Permalink
|
|
|
HOT, HOT, HOT
|
|
May 18, 2008 09:00pm (EST)
Saturday was the final March for Babies for the Los Angeles division - actually the last two marches, but since I could only go to one - I enjoyed the nice balmy 100+ degree temps in beautiful Simi Valley, CA. It's a cute suburban march in a lovely park. The turnout was nice - and the size allowed us to talk to most if not all of the family teams.
I was in the family teams tent the whole time at this march. I didn't actually walk - instead I greeted, talked, helped with art projects (the quilt turned out great!), and had a wonderful time.
The contrast with the Griffith Park walk was amazing. The main L.A. walk is huge. My team (Team Donovan) walked at that walk. I helped set up (from 5:00 am!) and spent a lot of time in the family teams booth attempting to field a barrage of questions and requests from a sea of faces. It was hard to connect with anyone individually because of the sheer volume of people. Of course, as we were walking the route - being a part of a crowd of that size gathered for one cause is an awe-inspiring thing.
Each walk had its own character - and "characters". At the Simi Valley march, we had a group from the "501st Garrison" dressed in full Star Wars stormtrooper regalia. I could only imagine how hot they must have been. One of the women (there were 2 women out of 7, I think) told me that she was "trying not to think about that." Considering she was wearing black from head to toe and black "armor" - I totally understand. They had signed up as a family team, though I found out that they as a group pick a different cause every year. They raise money and then come out and walk. I was very impressed.
All in all, I loved the small-town feel of the Simi Valley march. It was truly a family event. We had local moms groups. We had a couple of people from the corporate teams who came over because of their personal connections to the mission. It was cozy. And hot. And wonderful.
I made a quilt square for my friend (actually my boss) who just had the 32 week twins. I named her team "Team Cubs" - her twins are named Clark and Addeson. The names are in part, after the intersection in Chicago where Wrigley field - home of the Chicago Cubs - sits. I'm hoping she will be able to bring her boys out to the March next year. One of the things I took to her in the hospital was a ribbon from the Griffith Park march. She tied it to the light beside one of the twin's isolettes. They are still in the NICU after 2.5 weeks - but all reports that I have heard have been good.
Jenn
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (3) | Permalink
|
|
|
MOTHER STANDS FOR COMFORT
|
|
May 11, 2008 11:16am (EST)
Happy Mother's Day everyone.
This is my seventh Mother's day as a mom. My first happened 5 weeks after the birth of my first son, Aidan. I was completely fried by that point - due to lack of sleep and the wonderful cascade of post-partum hormones. But his had been a "normal" birth - a c-section at 39 weeks due to a breech presentation and bronchitis on my part.
My first Mother's Day as the mother of a preemie was last year. Donovan was eight months old already. We had settled into the routine - such as it is - synagis shots, appointments with all sorts of doctors and specialists, follow-up for me, hernias for Donovan. I was just realizing that the pain in my shoulder was probably not going to go away on its own. And I was still coming to terms with the circumstances of his birth. (Of course, that part is still there a year later.)
There were a lot of differences between the two births. I was awake and aware for Aidan. I heard his first cry. I knew that he was alive and could relax a little. He roomed in with us. My husband stayed in the room with both of us. We were able to change diapers. Nurse (or at least attempt to.) We were able to be a normal family. And we left 3 days later.
Donovan's birth was terrifying. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't hear his first cry. I didn't see him. I had no idea where I was. I woke up on a respirator. The day of his birth, and the first days that followed were the worst days of my life. And no one wants to say that about the birth of a child.
There were some similarities, though. After both births, I developed post-partum depression. I felt anxiety constantly. The anxiety turned into sleeplessness, which led directly to depression. With Aidan, I let it go. I was okay when other people were around, but would lose it when alone with the baby - which was usually about 10 hours a day at first. It did go away, eventually. I got better. But I let it go on for far too long. With Donovan, I knew it was coming. I knew, too, that it would be complicated by possible post-traumatic stress. Again, I was okay around other people. Once the litany of helpers dried up - I knew it would happen again. My husband called my doctor and got me in to see him. This time we would treat it. And it was soooo much better, so much easier to cope. The depression lifted. The anxiety slowly disappeared.
It's easy to fall into the role of being the one to give comfort. To be the care-giver. Sometimes, we have to accept it from others - and ask for it, too.
Jenn
P.S. If you're wondering the title of this blog is from a Kate Bush song of the same name. All of my blog titles come from song titles (or lyrics).
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (3) | Permalink
|
|
|
SMALL WORLD
|
|
May 04, 2008 11:31am (EST)
So, I just got back from softball - it was good to be out there, but I'm still not 100%. It's frustrating that after 19 months, I still can't throw without pain. Of course, my surgery was only 8 months ago. But, I can throw underhand. And it doesn't hurt when I swing a bat....
But really, I'm burying my lead here. I went to visit my friend in the hospital yesterday. When I walked in all I knew was that her twins had been born 8 weeks early. I didn't know what had caused their early arrival. Well, it turns out that her doctor sent her to the hospital due to pre-term labor. They were able to stop that - and were even talking about getting her ready to go home. Then they get her blood work back - elevated enzymes and low platelets. She's developing HELLP syndrome. The doctor comes in and tells her they want to deliver that night. The doctor starts in to explain: "You may not have heard of this, but there's a condition called HELLP...You may think we're overreacting..." My friend stops her right there. Tells the doctor she knows someone who went through that - knows what HELLP is and what it can do. She agrees immediately that they should do the c-section ASAP.
They caught it early enough to give her the steroid shots for the babies. They got her onto mag sulfate. They got to it before her blood pressure even started elevating. She should be able to leave the hospital today. I am so grateful that her experience with HELLP was less severe than mine. I had been telling her about what had happened to me - as her pregnancy progressed. I explained the symptoms and described the disease. Of course, she remembers when it happened - she visited me in the hospital after Donovan was born. It's funny - every time I told her more of the story - I always said "It's probably not going to happen to you, but..." (it is a rare complication). Hers was the first pregnancy I was close to following my own. And I always feel compelled to tell people about my experience.... So I shared it with her.
She and her husband invited me to go to the NICU to see the boys. That was a little hard at first. I'm scrubbing in with soap and water - you know the routine. I'm walking past the isolettes. Her boys are next to each other. They were born at just over and just under 4lbs each. I had forgotten somewhat how small NICU babies are. Donovan is 19 months old now - a big boy. But he was even smaller than these two. They are doing really well - a little reflux, but they're on room air. Of course, there is still a long road ahead.
A few days ago I wrote that I wished I could have saved her from having to go through the NICU experience. I had no idea, though, that I had saved her from going through the uncertainty of a diagnosis of something she'd never heard of. She knew what was happening and knew what to do because I had shared my story with her.
It was a great visit. I'm pulling for her and her boys!
Jenn
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (1) | Permalink
|
|
|
TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALL GAME
|
|
May 03, 2008 10:26am (EST)
I am going to leave in a little while to go visit the hospital. I haven't been into a maternity ward or near a NICU since my son was released close to 18 months ago. I am excited to go, but I'm also a little apprehensive. I guess it mirrors the reaction that I had to hearing that the boys had arrived. Everyone else was happy. Everyone was talking about how great it was and how long they had waited to get to this day. I felt that way too - but I couldn't help thinking that it would be even greater if they had had to wait even 4 or 5 weeks more. I overheard a couple of people comparing the twins to Donovan. "Well, Donovan was that early and he's fine now..."
It's a mark of the sorority we all joined when our babies came early - other people see how he is now, but I see where he was and how hard it has been to get here. And as far as "fine" goes - it's true, he's doing really well. but he's seeing early intervention specialists 5 times a month. It's a wonderful journey - and he is fine. But I do wish it didn't have to be so hard.
On another note - I never completely finished my story about Donovan's birth. One thing I left out is that the seizures (eclampsia) left we with a torn rotator cuff in my right shoulder. I grew up playing sports. I have played softball in one form or another since I was 5. Tomorrow I am going to play softball again - really for the first time since well before Dononvan's birth. So it's been about 2 years. I had my shoulder surgically repaired last September and then was in physical therapy for about 4 months. I am really looking forward to getting back out there. One of the toughest challenges I have faced personally is getting my own health back together. Donovan's health was so central, I neglected my own - but once I got Donovan squared away (the new normal) I realized that the pain in my shoulder and back hadn't gone away. I finally dragged myself into the orthopedist and after steroid shots, an MRI and several attempts to treat it non-surgically - I opted for arthroscopic surgery.
So it's back to the diamond after a long break. I am excited. I can't wait.
Jenn
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (2) | Permalink
|
|
|
SAVE A PRAYER, PART II
|
|
May 01, 2008 10:22am (EST)
Have to write a quick entry today. A friend just had 32 week twins last night. They are in the NICU. So far so good, but I haven't been able to talk to her yet.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it's all that I can think about. I'm nervous for her. I'm actually shaking. I can't concentrate on anything right now - which isn't good because I'm at work. I guess there are so many similarities between her two boys and my boy that I'm just right back there with her in the NICU. I know what she's going through and there's part of me that just wishes I could save her from having to go through it. I know that's not possible - and I know she's strong enough to handle it. But there it is. It's an emotion. and it's right there. It always will be.
Jenn
|
|
|
|
Posted by saffron | Comments: (3) | Permalink
|
|
 Archives
|
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
