I swear, in another life I was a nomad.
We've moved. This past weekend, actually a week to this night, we were shoveling sewer water out of kitchen window. Trying to call our maintance man and trying to not let the nasty water get into the rest of the deparment. We worked for like two hours and no one ever called us back or came. So, we called the city, the health department, whoever we thought might be able to help. Nothing got done until 2 days after it had all started. Then, a day later the flooring in the living room began to bubble up. At first it just rose in a few spots, then, before we knew it, it looked like a giant ass earthworm was breaking through the floor boards. And, there was brown nasty water leaking out from all over the place. Gross.
So, we got out of our lease and our now living with my parents, sort of. DH is back and forth because our dogs our at his mom's house because she has a yard and my folks are NOT pet people.
I can count how many times I've moved and the all occur with a quickness. Like most folks move over a period of time and plan things out, not me. I usually find out I'm moving about an hour before it happens and then I have to be out. I am really good at packing though. And thanks to Glad trashbags, I always have plenty of luggage.
My first move happened about 6 or 7 years ago. I'd been living at home when I decided I just could not take it anymore. My dad and I have always had a very weird relationship. The problem is we are both just alike. Well, one night we'd both just had it with one another and I called him a dirty ole dictator and might have said a few other things, and then told him I was gonna leave. So, I called DH then DB and was out and gone in like an hour. I fled to my grandma's (rip) house and stayed there for about a year. I lived in a bunk bed with two drawers to hold all my stuff. I shared a room with my 13 year old cousin. It was rough. But I was so thankful to have a place to go that was calm and safe.
And now, I'm back where I was 4 years ago. In my bro's room, but this time with a babe. It makes it harder and its really hard because DH has to be up and down the road.
Did I also mention that I'll be moving again? We got a house in the county but its old and needs so much work that it makes my head hurt. I have no idea when we'll move again. Soon. I hope. I want roots.
Roots.
I think Common said it best, "I just wanna be, be."
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
One of my students gave me this quote...
And I've got to think about it and want to write about it...just no time today:
Think about the exit, before you even enter.
Think about the exit, before you even enter.
Rainy Day
Well, I've been meaning to post sooner, but I've been so busy. Between the baby, a busted kitchen sink, preparing to move, and teaching, I'm just plum-warn-oout.
But, I do have some interesting news. The great-aunt who passed, her funeral was two days ago. I wasn't able to attend, but my mom and aunt did. Apparently, folks have been digging around trying to find out more about our family's history. And guess what they have unearthed?! My great-great-grandfather was in the Confederacy. Shocking, but true. My great-grandma was mixed, her father was a White man who was clerk of the county and had a 'hushed' relationship with a Black woman.
I always wondered why I could whistle Dixie.
There is a lot I want to write and say and think about this. So I'm filing this one in my brain and on my blog as something to return to.
But, I do have some interesting news. The great-aunt who passed, her funeral was two days ago. I wasn't able to attend, but my mom and aunt did. Apparently, folks have been digging around trying to find out more about our family's history. And guess what they have unearthed?! My great-great-grandfather was in the Confederacy. Shocking, but true. My great-grandma was mixed, her father was a White man who was clerk of the county and had a 'hushed' relationship with a Black woman.
I always wondered why I could whistle Dixie.
There is a lot I want to write and say and think about this. So I'm filing this one in my brain and on my blog as something to return to.
Thursday, September 7, 2006
I am just going to say a Bad word
Fuck cancer.
I lost my grandma to cancer on June 20, a great uncle on July 14, and now a great aunt on yesterday.
Fuck cancer.
My mother-in-law just finished her last radiation treatment today.
Fuck cancer.
My grandfather lost his voice and life 14 years ago this July.
Fuck cancer.
My father had testicular cancer.
Fuck cancer.
I challenge and ask everyone to find a way to Fuck cancer.
Fuck you Cancer
I lost my grandma to cancer on June 20, a great uncle on July 14, and now a great aunt on yesterday.
Fuck cancer.
My mother-in-law just finished her last radiation treatment today.
Fuck cancer.
My grandfather lost his voice and life 14 years ago this July.
Fuck cancer.
My father had testicular cancer.
Fuck cancer.
I challenge and ask everyone to find a way to Fuck cancer.
Fuck you Cancer
I am Broke and it ain't No joke
For most folks who are adjuncts, or have been adjuncts, or work as TAs in grad school, or whatever you know what its like to be this broke. I'm just that broke. We have been without two checks since my maternity leave ended this summer and I am feeling it and NOT feeling it.
I'm too broke to publish a free blog post.
I'm too broke to publish a free blog post.
Monday, September 4, 2006
The First Day of School
Labor day weekend always brings back very fond memories for me. When I was in elementary school I loved planning my first day of school. As soon as August rolled around I'd start scanning the newspaper for binders, notebooks, and bookbag sales. Because I went to private school and we wore uniforms, the only flare I was allowed came by the way of the supplies I choose. The only problem, my mom wanted to buy in bulk and find value, I wanted to get the flashy cool stuff. Strawberry Shortcake pencils, glitter pens, Trapper-Keppers with puppies and kittens, these were my items of choice.
Once I had my school supplies, which it normally only took us a day to get them because I was quite anal and would not leave the store unless we had purchased everything on the school's list, I would take my supplies home and spread them out on the coffee table and sofa. I LOVED labeling my supplies. I would prnt my name on each item. And I do mean each item, even crayons, last name, first initial. I would put masking tape on each of my magic markers and then print my name on those. My mom would order labels from the locak five and dime and I'd watch as she ironed my name into my shirts, uniform jumper, and sweathers. I can stil remember how the uniform felt soft and worn because we'd buy used, in grades 1-3 I wore a white peter-pan collared shirt, and burgundy plaid jumper with white socks and burgundy shoes.
I would line up my uniform in order of how I'd put my clothes on. That meant that the jumper was last, the shirt on top, them my t-shirt, socks, underclothes, etc. My sweater and jacket would be by the door, shoes under the rocking chair with the clothes.
My lunch-box was another matter. In the early grades, my grandma would pack my lunch because I caught the bus from her house. She would pack whatever she knew I loved. This made for a very interesting lunch, some days I'd have hamburger patties on white bread with the edges of the bread neatly trimmed off, and a pat of mayo. Or, a ham sandwhich with the same neatly lined bread, small plastic bags of chips, a cold drink in my thermos and a twinkie. Once, I was so excited by my lunch that I ate the twinkie with the wrapper partially on. Yum.
I remember that I would pack my bookbag several times, trying to find just the right way to line up notebooks, binders, and the pencil box. Pack, unpack, pack, unpack, trying to get everything in and snug. To this day, I am the best packer in my family. I can work wonders.
The beginning of the school year was my favorite time of the year. I always felt like I could turn over a new leaf, make changes, become a new person, I felt like anything was possible as I began this new year.
I want to label crayons again. I want to turn over a new leaf. I miss my grandma.
Once I had my school supplies, which it normally only took us a day to get them because I was quite anal and would not leave the store unless we had purchased everything on the school's list, I would take my supplies home and spread them out on the coffee table and sofa. I LOVED labeling my supplies. I would prnt my name on each item. And I do mean each item, even crayons, last name, first initial. I would put masking tape on each of my magic markers and then print my name on those. My mom would order labels from the locak five and dime and I'd watch as she ironed my name into my shirts, uniform jumper, and sweathers. I can stil remember how the uniform felt soft and worn because we'd buy used, in grades 1-3 I wore a white peter-pan collared shirt, and burgundy plaid jumper with white socks and burgundy shoes.
I would line up my uniform in order of how I'd put my clothes on. That meant that the jumper was last, the shirt on top, them my t-shirt, socks, underclothes, etc. My sweater and jacket would be by the door, shoes under the rocking chair with the clothes.
My lunch-box was another matter. In the early grades, my grandma would pack my lunch because I caught the bus from her house. She would pack whatever she knew I loved. This made for a very interesting lunch, some days I'd have hamburger patties on white bread with the edges of the bread neatly trimmed off, and a pat of mayo. Or, a ham sandwhich with the same neatly lined bread, small plastic bags of chips, a cold drink in my thermos and a twinkie. Once, I was so excited by my lunch that I ate the twinkie with the wrapper partially on. Yum.
I remember that I would pack my bookbag several times, trying to find just the right way to line up notebooks, binders, and the pencil box. Pack, unpack, pack, unpack, trying to get everything in and snug. To this day, I am the best packer in my family. I can work wonders.
The beginning of the school year was my favorite time of the year. I always felt like I could turn over a new leaf, make changes, become a new person, I felt like anything was possible as I began this new year.
I want to label crayons again. I want to turn over a new leaf. I miss my grandma.
Sunday, September 3, 2006
I am my grandfather's granddaughter
My grandfather (on my dad's side) used to wrap his hair. For those folks who don't quite know bout this, Lucy, let me splain:
He was bald/balding (not exactly certain which state his hair was in) around the center of his head. However, he had very long hair around the sides and the back. Long and black. So what he would do was to wrap his hair around his head, all the way around to cover the balding front hairline and the center. Then, sometimes, or most of the times he'd wear a hat. So he kinda had a turban of hair.
I am now doing the same thing, my hair is thinning horribly because of post-partum hair loss.
I now don the turban-o-hair.
Rock on.
He was bald/balding (not exactly certain which state his hair was in) around the center of his head. However, he had very long hair around the sides and the back. Long and black. So what he would do was to wrap his hair around his head, all the way around to cover the balding front hairline and the center. Then, sometimes, or most of the times he'd wear a hat. So he kinda had a turban of hair.
I am now doing the same thing, my hair is thinning horribly because of post-partum hair loss.
I now don the turban-o-hair.
Rock on.
Friday, September 1, 2006
the rise of the phoenix
Today I ran into the store to get a few items to tide us through this storm and I ran into an old friend. The last time she saw me was when I was preggers so she asked how the baby was, how I was and then she asked a question that people very rarely ask, how was the birth?
It made me stop and think about my answer. For the past few months its something that I've thought quite a bit about. Her birth was long and arduous, but in the end I got a wonderful baby girl. Of course normally when people ask I don't go into great detail, but today I did, and I think it was good for me. I finally admitted to being a bit disappointed. I had been in hopes of having a totally natural vaginal delivray. I'd taken the classes, done prenatal yoga, walked, squatted, drank mother's tea, and read all the books. I thought surely, I'd be able to handle this, certainly I could let go and do this one thing that women had been doing for thousands of years before me. But I couldn't.
I went into labor on May 3 around 2 in the morning, when I woke up to pee. I waddled into the bathroom and noticed my underwear were wet. Thinking I'd just leaked a little, I washed off changed underwear and went back to sleep, or tried to. Because I was laying down for only about 10 minute when I noticed I was feeling wet again. Up I went, back to the bathroom. This time I woke DH up and told him what I thought was going on. We paged the doula and called my mom. Both told me to take it easy and just try to get some rest to prepare myself for the long day ahead. That was easier said than done. I slept off and on for maybe about 3 hours, before the doula called and asked how I was. She suggested I eat a light snack and continue to get some rest because I couldn't feel any contractions.
Around 6 that morning I noticed blood when I went to the bathroom and decided it was time to try the hospital. So, I called and the doctor told me to come on in. I showered, got some yogurt, had some tea and did my hair. Yup, I was calm enough to do my hair.
We got to the hospital around 7, got checked in and the nurse told me to put on a gown. I was feeling good, real good. She checked me and hooked me up to the monitors and told me that I was already having contractions, they were about 3 minutes apart. This is nothing I thought, I'd noticed my tummy tightening, but nothing major. I knew I'd be able to handle this.
My doctor came in and checked me, I was only about 3 centimeters dilated and the baby's head hadn't dropped down. So, he broke my water and started me on pitocin. This is where the story starts to get foggy. I remember laying down in the hospital bed, water spilling out of me everywhere, the doctor, nurses, doula, and DH standing around my bed. Pretty soon I had IVs hooked into my arm, and I was feeling out-of-it. The pitocin made the contractions stronger and my body had a hard time adjusting. My blood pressure began to shoot up, at one point I just remember it being like 150/111 or something and the nurse made me lay down on my side. I'd planned to be able to walk around, do yoga, get in the tub, walk the halls, but none of that happened.
My progress was extremely slow, I just remember the doctors and nurses coming in ever so often to check my pressure and my progress. Not much changed. They tried to have me sit up occasional, but my pressure would go up again. I'd move in the bed from side to side, but still nothing. Finally, after a day of moving, peeing, water dripping, and the bed being turned almost upside down I was told that I'd have to have a C-section. At that point I think I was so tired and out-of-it that I didn't care. I just wanted to know how fast it could be done. At 9:30 PM the decision was made that I'd have a c-section and by 10 I was being prepped.
I'd known all along that because of my low platelet count, if I had to have a section, I would have to be put out with general anesthesia, but I don't think I fully prepared myself, but how can you? The anesthesiaologist came in and told me about all the horrible things that can happen and asked me if I could manage to drink a yucky liquid to settle my stomach acids, I chugged it like it was a jell-o shooter. The next thing I new my belly was being shaved and a folly-cath being inserted. From that point on, I kept my eyes closed.
DH whispered his I love yous, my mom rubbed my hair, and my doula said she'd come back to take pictures. But other than that, I was on my own. They rolled me out of the room and into the OR, I opened my eyes twice. The first time I was in the hall and the second time I was in the OR. Once there, the room was cold, they made me recite my social security number and asked me if I knew why I was there. I rattled off the numbers and told them I was having a baby, I was so afraid that if I didn't get it right they wouldn't do it! I looked up and just saw a huge light. It reminded me of an X-files episode where there were examining an alien on a table. I was the alien.
I remember a cold brush going across my belly and I could hear them talking about my case, "low platelets, examined the case earlier, 40 weeks, first pregnancy." The next thing I knew there was a voice coming from behind me telling me to breathe deeply and that she'd take good care of me.
In less than 30 minutes I had a baby and was back in my room. I looked around to see all the faced I'd left and then I looked down and there was my baby, attached happily to my boob.
I think my emotions have run the gambit when I think about my labor and delivery. Certainly, I'd wanted a natural birth and ended up with anything but that. But what I've got is so much more awesome, a healthy babe. I've also decided that out of this birth I learned about my own stregnths, ones that I never before thought I'd had.
Most people know I am HORRIFIED about doctors and hospitals. I mean a horrible fear, but I did it. I never once freaked out, got loud, or tried to control the situation. The entire time I kept reminded myself to just be like water, let the pain, the fear, all of it just wash over and out of my body. That got me through those long hours. I was able to just focus on each contraction and let it go. Before the c-section I was able to focus on the event and let go my fears and worries. I learned from this a very valuable lesson, one that I should have learned a long time ago, but it took this to really teach me.
What a wonderful way to learn, I got the best gift of all.
It made me stop and think about my answer. For the past few months its something that I've thought quite a bit about. Her birth was long and arduous, but in the end I got a wonderful baby girl. Of course normally when people ask I don't go into great detail, but today I did, and I think it was good for me. I finally admitted to being a bit disappointed. I had been in hopes of having a totally natural vaginal delivray. I'd taken the classes, done prenatal yoga, walked, squatted, drank mother's tea, and read all the books. I thought surely, I'd be able to handle this, certainly I could let go and do this one thing that women had been doing for thousands of years before me. But I couldn't.
I went into labor on May 3 around 2 in the morning, when I woke up to pee. I waddled into the bathroom and noticed my underwear were wet. Thinking I'd just leaked a little, I washed off changed underwear and went back to sleep, or tried to. Because I was laying down for only about 10 minute when I noticed I was feeling wet again. Up I went, back to the bathroom. This time I woke DH up and told him what I thought was going on. We paged the doula and called my mom. Both told me to take it easy and just try to get some rest to prepare myself for the long day ahead. That was easier said than done. I slept off and on for maybe about 3 hours, before the doula called and asked how I was. She suggested I eat a light snack and continue to get some rest because I couldn't feel any contractions.
Around 6 that morning I noticed blood when I went to the bathroom and decided it was time to try the hospital. So, I called and the doctor told me to come on in. I showered, got some yogurt, had some tea and did my hair. Yup, I was calm enough to do my hair.
We got to the hospital around 7, got checked in and the nurse told me to put on a gown. I was feeling good, real good. She checked me and hooked me up to the monitors and told me that I was already having contractions, they were about 3 minutes apart. This is nothing I thought, I'd noticed my tummy tightening, but nothing major. I knew I'd be able to handle this.
My doctor came in and checked me, I was only about 3 centimeters dilated and the baby's head hadn't dropped down. So, he broke my water and started me on pitocin. This is where the story starts to get foggy. I remember laying down in the hospital bed, water spilling out of me everywhere, the doctor, nurses, doula, and DH standing around my bed. Pretty soon I had IVs hooked into my arm, and I was feeling out-of-it. The pitocin made the contractions stronger and my body had a hard time adjusting. My blood pressure began to shoot up, at one point I just remember it being like 150/111 or something and the nurse made me lay down on my side. I'd planned to be able to walk around, do yoga, get in the tub, walk the halls, but none of that happened.
My progress was extremely slow, I just remember the doctors and nurses coming in ever so often to check my pressure and my progress. Not much changed. They tried to have me sit up occasional, but my pressure would go up again. I'd move in the bed from side to side, but still nothing. Finally, after a day of moving, peeing, water dripping, and the bed being turned almost upside down I was told that I'd have to have a C-section. At that point I think I was so tired and out-of-it that I didn't care. I just wanted to know how fast it could be done. At 9:30 PM the decision was made that I'd have a c-section and by 10 I was being prepped.
I'd known all along that because of my low platelet count, if I had to have a section, I would have to be put out with general anesthesia, but I don't think I fully prepared myself, but how can you? The anesthesiaologist came in and told me about all the horrible things that can happen and asked me if I could manage to drink a yucky liquid to settle my stomach acids, I chugged it like it was a jell-o shooter. The next thing I new my belly was being shaved and a folly-cath being inserted. From that point on, I kept my eyes closed.
DH whispered his I love yous, my mom rubbed my hair, and my doula said she'd come back to take pictures. But other than that, I was on my own. They rolled me out of the room and into the OR, I opened my eyes twice. The first time I was in the hall and the second time I was in the OR. Once there, the room was cold, they made me recite my social security number and asked me if I knew why I was there. I rattled off the numbers and told them I was having a baby, I was so afraid that if I didn't get it right they wouldn't do it! I looked up and just saw a huge light. It reminded me of an X-files episode where there were examining an alien on a table. I was the alien.
I remember a cold brush going across my belly and I could hear them talking about my case, "low platelets, examined the case earlier, 40 weeks, first pregnancy." The next thing I knew there was a voice coming from behind me telling me to breathe deeply and that she'd take good care of me.
In less than 30 minutes I had a baby and was back in my room. I looked around to see all the faced I'd left and then I looked down and there was my baby, attached happily to my boob.
I think my emotions have run the gambit when I think about my labor and delivery. Certainly, I'd wanted a natural birth and ended up with anything but that. But what I've got is so much more awesome, a healthy babe. I've also decided that out of this birth I learned about my own stregnths, ones that I never before thought I'd had.
Most people know I am HORRIFIED about doctors and hospitals. I mean a horrible fear, but I did it. I never once freaked out, got loud, or tried to control the situation. The entire time I kept reminded myself to just be like water, let the pain, the fear, all of it just wash over and out of my body. That got me through those long hours. I was able to just focus on each contraction and let it go. Before the c-section I was able to focus on the event and let go my fears and worries. I learned from this a very valuable lesson, one that I should have learned a long time ago, but it took this to really teach me.
What a wonderful way to learn, I got the best gift of all.
ernesto
We're getting hit hard with rain from ye ole ernesto. That combined with the fact that the babe is feeling sniffly and teething means that I'll be staying in most of the day. No complaints with that, just wishing that I had some better snacks in the house.
I looked back over what I wrote earlier about feeling crazy. And I can answer my own question, LOL, no I'm not crazy. I'm just having a hard time dealing with the way things are:
I miss my grandma horribly. The raw hurt that I feel will heal with time, but maybe it would be helpful to do something to try and get myself to think more positively about her. Most of the time I focus on her last month which was so difficult and full of so much pain. Maybe every Friday I'll post a story or memory. I think sometimes I'm afraid I'll forget.
I do have a baby now and that means I can't get things done the way I used to. Tough tits. (literally) This just means I will have to pick my projects carefully and work even harder. That's a challenge that should be good for me.
I do want to be a teacher. There's no denying that. I am also disappointed that I've not been able to start school. I'm sick of the adjuncting game. But I've got to look at what I do have, a beautiful, wonderful, daughter.
Now, the hard part is just applying and remembering.
I looked back over what I wrote earlier about feeling crazy. And I can answer my own question, LOL, no I'm not crazy. I'm just having a hard time dealing with the way things are:
I miss my grandma horribly. The raw hurt that I feel will heal with time, but maybe it would be helpful to do something to try and get myself to think more positively about her. Most of the time I focus on her last month which was so difficult and full of so much pain. Maybe every Friday I'll post a story or memory. I think sometimes I'm afraid I'll forget.
I do have a baby now and that means I can't get things done the way I used to. Tough tits. (literally) This just means I will have to pick my projects carefully and work even harder. That's a challenge that should be good for me.
I do want to be a teacher. There's no denying that. I am also disappointed that I've not been able to start school. I'm sick of the adjuncting game. But I've got to look at what I do have, a beautiful, wonderful, daughter.
Now, the hard part is just applying and remembering.
putting it into context
I feel like i have to put my last post into context, to be fair to myself and others.
1. Yes, I was admitted into a PhD program but didn't go because my MIL got sick and I got pregnant. My own choice and one I do not regret.
2. Maybe I don't regret number one, but in some ways do I regeret not going to school earlier?
3. I am sick of the bull-ish that goes on in school. And I think more than anything I just need to get away.
4. I'm tired of myself.
5. I'm sad, I miss talking to my grandma who would have been able to solve all of my problems and I would be feeling much better by now.
6. I don't have the focus on school that I used to.
7. Sometimes I wish I did have the focus, or the ability to do things other than the stuff I've got not.
8. I don't know who I am.
9. Do you think I'm crazy?
1. Yes, I was admitted into a PhD program but didn't go because my MIL got sick and I got pregnant. My own choice and one I do not regret.
2. Maybe I don't regret number one, but in some ways do I regeret not going to school earlier?
3. I am sick of the bull-ish that goes on in school. And I think more than anything I just need to get away.
4. I'm tired of myself.
5. I'm sad, I miss talking to my grandma who would have been able to solve all of my problems and I would be feeling much better by now.
6. I don't have the focus on school that I used to.
7. Sometimes I wish I did have the focus, or the ability to do things other than the stuff I've got not.
8. I don't know who I am.
9. Do you think I'm crazy?
do you think i'm crazy?
I really dig the Gnarles Barkley song. My bro and I have been saying that it really relates to how we're both feeling at the moment. Kinda down, missing our granny, wondering what's up with the world, and how in the hell we fit into this atmosphere. I just don't know. Some days I feel like I have no answers at all.
Like today for example. I have so much that I need to get done: an article to review, lessons to plan, GRE to study for, contacts for Grad school, clean the house, do laundry, and the list goes on. But I didn't do any of it. Some days I just don't see the need, or better I should say, I don't have the want to do things, not like I used to.
I'm trying to avoid comparing myself too much to how I used to be, because the person I was no longer exists. At least in parts she does, but she's different now. Why am I referring to myself in 3rd person? Maybe because I'm trying to distance myself from myself (mmm) and try to take a look at who I've become. I don't know, it's really cliche to say that having a baby changes you. It does, I don't argue that at all. But how does it change you? I guess its different for everyone. In some ways I think it makes you more focused, in my case, my little one commands attention and it means quite often I have to put other things on hold. I don't complain about this though, because it has taught me how to prioritize. I can now quick-spot-clean our apartment in 20 minutes, or fix myself something to eat, or grab a shower and check email. There's a lot that can be done in that amount of time. But having her has also made me re-examine exactly what's important to me. And to long for things to be simple.
Some days I just don't give a who about theory or writing or teaching or learning, not unless it has to do with my baby. It scares me though, because some days I just don't see the point of the work I've spent so much time on, so much time thinking about, and really trying to work my way up that ladder. Some days I wonder if I've fallen, out of the 'ivory tower' wanna-be syndrome and if I've plummeted to where I was before I knew what academia was about.
My first experience with teaching came about 5 years ago. I taught immigrants and refugees English. I loved it. I would have a classroom packed with 20-30 people each night, friends would bring friends, mothers would bring grandma, grandma would bring aunties. And I would work on the most basic things with them, learning to read signs, reciting the alphabet, counting money, filling out forms for the doctor's office. It was tiring and I spent way more time prepping those lessons than I did working on my own stuff for grad school, but I loved it. I felt like I really had the power to change lives, to help people. It made me feel good when a student would come back and tell me she'd gotten a job or when they would thank me in English. I really felt that I made a difference. Now, I don't know. I don't get that feeling. I think I'm really disillusioned from with the world of academia right now. Working as an adjunct also doesn't help any. No benefits, no ability to travel, and no hope for promotion unless you adjunct for a gazillion years and are willing to kiss ass. I'm just not at that point in my life anymore.
I guess its more just a part of me being able to see that there are other ways to claim success in life, and they don't always have to do with titles or status.
I'm wondering if I don't need to seriously rethink my career choice. I used to see the benefit of my going to school and pursing comp studies/rhetorical analysis stuff, but now I just ask myself why? And who am I going to help that way? I know I need to be a teacher, its just what I am, its what I do, its a part of my core. But how can I help those who need it the most? That's what I feel called to do.
Like today for example. I have so much that I need to get done: an article to review, lessons to plan, GRE to study for, contacts for Grad school, clean the house, do laundry, and the list goes on. But I didn't do any of it. Some days I just don't see the need, or better I should say, I don't have the want to do things, not like I used to.
I'm trying to avoid comparing myself too much to how I used to be, because the person I was no longer exists. At least in parts she does, but she's different now. Why am I referring to myself in 3rd person? Maybe because I'm trying to distance myself from myself (mmm) and try to take a look at who I've become. I don't know, it's really cliche to say that having a baby changes you. It does, I don't argue that at all. But how does it change you? I guess its different for everyone. In some ways I think it makes you more focused, in my case, my little one commands attention and it means quite often I have to put other things on hold. I don't complain about this though, because it has taught me how to prioritize. I can now quick-spot-clean our apartment in 20 minutes, or fix myself something to eat, or grab a shower and check email. There's a lot that can be done in that amount of time. But having her has also made me re-examine exactly what's important to me. And to long for things to be simple.
Some days I just don't give a who about theory or writing or teaching or learning, not unless it has to do with my baby. It scares me though, because some days I just don't see the point of the work I've spent so much time on, so much time thinking about, and really trying to work my way up that ladder. Some days I wonder if I've fallen, out of the 'ivory tower' wanna-be syndrome and if I've plummeted to where I was before I knew what academia was about.
My first experience with teaching came about 5 years ago. I taught immigrants and refugees English. I loved it. I would have a classroom packed with 20-30 people each night, friends would bring friends, mothers would bring grandma, grandma would bring aunties. And I would work on the most basic things with them, learning to read signs, reciting the alphabet, counting money, filling out forms for the doctor's office. It was tiring and I spent way more time prepping those lessons than I did working on my own stuff for grad school, but I loved it. I felt like I really had the power to change lives, to help people. It made me feel good when a student would come back and tell me she'd gotten a job or when they would thank me in English. I really felt that I made a difference. Now, I don't know. I don't get that feeling. I think I'm really disillusioned from with the world of academia right now. Working as an adjunct also doesn't help any. No benefits, no ability to travel, and no hope for promotion unless you adjunct for a gazillion years and are willing to kiss ass. I'm just not at that point in my life anymore.
I guess its more just a part of me being able to see that there are other ways to claim success in life, and they don't always have to do with titles or status.
I'm wondering if I don't need to seriously rethink my career choice. I used to see the benefit of my going to school and pursing comp studies/rhetorical analysis stuff, but now I just ask myself why? And who am I going to help that way? I know I need to be a teacher, its just what I am, its what I do, its a part of my core. But how can I help those who need it the most? That's what I feel called to do.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
first day woes
Well, my first day of school was actually last week, but this is the first official week, or at least that's how I count it. I'm not feeling super thrilled about much of anything and I think that it has to do with the fact that I'm still grieving the loss of my granny and learning to function on an entire new sleep schedule. I haven't had the time like I usually do, to plan and create new activities. Teaching the same ole class gets borning, but I always enjoy adding to my in-class activities.
I am also in the middle of GRE studying and writing a review. But I'm having a hard time doing both.
I have quite a bit of trouble learning to focus and meet deadlines.
ugh.
I am also in the middle of GRE studying and writing a review. But I'm having a hard time doing both.
I have quite a bit of trouble learning to focus and meet deadlines.
ugh.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Things that are Weird II
Reading Tree's entry here Cheese & Responsibility made me think of this one:
11. Keeping a Jean Luke action figure in the pocket of your winter coat, at 22, touching the figure when you feel nervous and being worried when he's slipped into the hole in your pocket and gotten stuck in the lining, and sad when you've lost him at the dry cleaners.
And whats even MORE weird? I don't even really know who Jean Luke is, but I totally dug his action figure.
11. Keeping a Jean Luke action figure in the pocket of your winter coat, at 22, touching the figure when you feel nervous and being worried when he's slipped into the hole in your pocket and gotten stuck in the lining, and sad when you've lost him at the dry cleaners.
And whats even MORE weird? I don't even really know who Jean Luke is, but I totally dug his action figure.
Things that are Weird
1. Not being able to get good iced-tea anywhere but in the South. Don't other people drink their tea syrupy sweet?
2. Not having traveled enough to actually make the assessment made in number 1.
3. Having a baby who acts like a 40 year old.
4. Seeing random folks who were the shiz-it in school; but who are now struggling to just get by. The fall of the superhero.
5. Teachers who float into your life and then out.
6. Having those same teachers talk to you in a very un-teacherly way.
7. Missing Friday nights where the highlight was eating pepperoni pizza and drinking diet coke (especially because now you don't eat pork and are afraid of the chemicals in the soda).
8. Teaching at the same place you went to school. Sometimes I forget and feel like I should be sitting at the small desk, not the big desk.
9. Reading about random people's lives and caring about what happens. I mean really caring, like staying up when you should be asleep because you have a babe who will wake you up for milk in another 3 hours...if you even have that long.
10. Blogging.
2. Not having traveled enough to actually make the assessment made in number 1.
3. Having a baby who acts like a 40 year old.
4. Seeing random folks who were the shiz-it in school; but who are now struggling to just get by. The fall of the superhero.
5. Teachers who float into your life and then out.
6. Having those same teachers talk to you in a very un-teacherly way.
7. Missing Friday nights where the highlight was eating pepperoni pizza and drinking diet coke (especially because now you don't eat pork and are afraid of the chemicals in the soda).
8. Teaching at the same place you went to school. Sometimes I forget and feel like I should be sitting at the small desk, not the big desk.
9. Reading about random people's lives and caring about what happens. I mean really caring, like staying up when you should be asleep because you have a babe who will wake you up for milk in another 3 hours...if you even have that long.
10. Blogging.
so....
I made it through one day of teaching/orientation. It was nice to put on real clothes and have adult conversations, but at the same time I missed my baby horribly! The longest I'd been away from her was maybe 3-4 hours tops, but on Thursday I was away from 1-7! argh! She was with her dad, but still it was much harder than I'd imagined.
Before she was born I thought that I'd want to go back to work, back to school, back to 'normal' life right away. Boy was I wrong, I wanted to cry when I had to get out of the car. Its hard, because I know there has to be a balance and trully I want there to be. I don't think it would be good for me or her if I didn't have any other interests/jobs, but right now my focus has been only on her for the past 3 and 1/2 months, so its like how do I get myself back in the swing of things I used to do?
Actually, what I've realized is that I can't get back in the swing of what I used to do. I'm not that person anymore, and if I continue to try to think that I am her, then I'll never be able to enjoy who I am now. Having a baby changed me, I'm a different person now. Sure, I 've got some of the same qualities and strands of person that I had before, but I've also got some stuff too, and thats okie, in fact its good. The old me could have never handled any of this. If you had told me a year ago, I'd have a baby, not go back to grad school, AND loose my grandma within a month, I'd have told you there would be no way. No way I would be able to make it. But I have. Slowly, yes, but making it still. I used to be so caught up in what other people were doing or what people would think of me if I didn't do things a certain way. Not any more, its a waste of time to be that analytical, and if its one thing having a baby has taught me, its to focus on the present.
So, when I started my first day of class I did not panic when I hadn't quite finished the syllabus, didn't have the right section number, had a bit of milk on my clothes, forgot to pack extra nursing pads, and wore sneakers because my feet have gotten wider since having the babe. No, no panic, no worry, I walked in and did what I do best.
Before she was born I thought that I'd want to go back to work, back to school, back to 'normal' life right away. Boy was I wrong, I wanted to cry when I had to get out of the car. Its hard, because I know there has to be a balance and trully I want there to be. I don't think it would be good for me or her if I didn't have any other interests/jobs, but right now my focus has been only on her for the past 3 and 1/2 months, so its like how do I get myself back in the swing of things I used to do?
Actually, what I've realized is that I can't get back in the swing of what I used to do. I'm not that person anymore, and if I continue to try to think that I am her, then I'll never be able to enjoy who I am now. Having a baby changed me, I'm a different person now. Sure, I 've got some of the same qualities and strands of person that I had before, but I've also got some stuff too, and thats okie, in fact its good. The old me could have never handled any of this. If you had told me a year ago, I'd have a baby, not go back to grad school, AND loose my grandma within a month, I'd have told you there would be no way. No way I would be able to make it. But I have. Slowly, yes, but making it still. I used to be so caught up in what other people were doing or what people would think of me if I didn't do things a certain way. Not any more, its a waste of time to be that analytical, and if its one thing having a baby has taught me, its to focus on the present.
So, when I started my first day of class I did not panic when I hadn't quite finished the syllabus, didn't have the right section number, had a bit of milk on my clothes, forgot to pack extra nursing pads, and wore sneakers because my feet have gotten wider since having the babe. No, no panic, no worry, I walked in and did what I do best.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Trying to break the Ice
Well....its been quite some time. Almost 5 months to the day that I said I ended this blog, and here I'm back. Feeling more than a little bashful and afraid *kicks rocks around with foot and looks down like a new kid on the playground*.
I ended this blog because I felt like I couldn't keep up with others, or rather I felt like I wasn't where I should be and because it was painful, I just stopped writing and tried to stop thinking about it, well, things don't work that way. You still think about it.
I have gone through so many changes, so many. So many. Three months to the day my blog ended, so did my grandma's life. Just like that, gone. It was cancer and it hit with a vengeance. I'm no where near healed from the loss. None of us are, but I realize that she is not hurting anymore and we said our I love You's and I have to let it go with that. Knowing that I'll never forget her.
My daughter was also born, little Cucumber! She came on May 3 at 7lbs 10 ounces and screamed to the top of her lungs when she saw DH (I was out of it from the meds/c-section), our first meeting came with me waking up super groggy to find her attached to my boob. It was love at first sight.
So, I'm trying to ease back into things. I'm still an avid blog reader, but its hard to type with a 12 pounder on your hip tugging for more milk. Now that I'm starting with work again, I hope to carve out a little time to be able to write and still read. I hope to put myself out there more and become more a part of the blogging community. I want to read and respond and do more than just talk about myself.
I am also not putting forth any rules on what this blog is and what it is not. Just like I said, I'm trying to learn balance and keep a level head. I'm also trying really hard to get back into the swing of work/school because I've not lost focus and realize even now more than ever that its important for me to go back to school.
So, we'll see what happens. I hope I can find a swing on this playground *looks around for empty swing, or maybe a slide...*
I ended this blog because I felt like I couldn't keep up with others, or rather I felt like I wasn't where I should be and because it was painful, I just stopped writing and tried to stop thinking about it, well, things don't work that way. You still think about it.
I have gone through so many changes, so many. So many. Three months to the day my blog ended, so did my grandma's life. Just like that, gone. It was cancer and it hit with a vengeance. I'm no where near healed from the loss. None of us are, but I realize that she is not hurting anymore and we said our I love You's and I have to let it go with that. Knowing that I'll never forget her.
My daughter was also born, little Cucumber! She came on May 3 at 7lbs 10 ounces and screamed to the top of her lungs when she saw DH (I was out of it from the meds/c-section), our first meeting came with me waking up super groggy to find her attached to my boob. It was love at first sight.
So, I'm trying to ease back into things. I'm still an avid blog reader, but its hard to type with a 12 pounder on your hip tugging for more milk. Now that I'm starting with work again, I hope to carve out a little time to be able to write and still read. I hope to put myself out there more and become more a part of the blogging community. I want to read and respond and do more than just talk about myself.
I am also not putting forth any rules on what this blog is and what it is not. Just like I said, I'm trying to learn balance and keep a level head. I'm also trying really hard to get back into the swing of work/school because I've not lost focus and realize even now more than ever that its important for me to go back to school.
So, we'll see what happens. I hope I can find a swing on this playground *looks around for empty swing, or maybe a slide...*
Monday, March 20, 2006
When this blog first began, it was going to be a way for me to write about the transition from a life of adjuncting to graduate school and my move up North. Well, life happens and things change, so this blog is now a reflection of those changes.
I don't like this blog.
I think one of the reasons I'm not very happy with it is because I started out with a set agenda, "This is what my blog will say. This is the purpose it will serve." I tried to model it around other academic-like blogs and tried to really put my 'academic' perspective on things. I tried to hard to be witty, to comment on things I thought I should comment on because they were academic-ish and to make this a place that was going to be intellectual.
Well, when you set out with an agenda it becomes difficult to make it always fit. Or at least for me, because I have a tendency to not want change or to not flow and be like water (Bruce Lee- what was that quote he used...).
So, inevitably, the blog's role had to change because I changed, but my mind was still fighting for this to be an 'academic' space not mommy/preggo central, or a place to complain and whine, or a place to post random snipits of my life. I think that's why here lately I've been avoiding it and not wanting to post. I don't want to post because I don't like what this blog has become, me. And I'm not always very happy with myself. Usually, I'm never very happy with myself. I am my worst enemy and critic. And I know most people would argue the same, but its different for me. I come from a family where my father is a perfectionist and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I am too. So, when this blog didn't turn into a hot trobbing place to discuss rhetorical analysis, or teaching, I became soured.
The other part of the problem is that I also have a tendency to compare myself with others. Big time. What is Sally Joe's blog about? What does Petey have to say about comp theory? Whats the hot topic at Four C's? How does Coco Joe tell a story? Blog's serve many purposes and it does give you a bit of space to focus on your self (for better or for worse) and when you read how things are grrrrrrrrrrreat for others and their moving and shaking and doing er-thing you wanted to, if you have a perfectionist personality and compare yourself with others, inevitably you began to doubt yourself and feel like a failure. That's just the way it is, for me.
So, a month or so ago, I really started hating my blog. I felt like I wasn't focused, committed to the purpose of why I started one in the first place (to record thoughts/emotions about transition). I also think that not having an audience was affecting me also. Most folks don't blog just for themselves, for some it might be that this is trully a journal, a private space, but I find that hard to believe. If you are posting on the net, you have to realize there is a chance someone will read what you have to say, and I think most bloggers want that. That's why you ask questions in your post, that's why you have a comment section, or a blog role. Because you seek a community. Well, I don't really have one, or rather I should say I feel like I'm on the outskirst of lots of different communities: mother to be, former adjunct, former phd to be, stay at home mom to be, full time 9-to-fiver, wife, writer-wanna-be. In some of these communities I fit perfectly, while in others I don't really feel like I belong. And much of that is my own fault, or rather my own perception.
So, with all that said. I'd like to announce that this blog is going-bye-bye. I'm changing. I am allowing myself to change and not feel like I have to stay with this form. I'm going to be like water. (Where the hell is that Bruce Lee quote!?)
I don't like this blog.
I think one of the reasons I'm not very happy with it is because I started out with a set agenda, "This is what my blog will say. This is the purpose it will serve." I tried to model it around other academic-like blogs and tried to really put my 'academic' perspective on things. I tried to hard to be witty, to comment on things I thought I should comment on because they were academic-ish and to make this a place that was going to be intellectual.
Well, when you set out with an agenda it becomes difficult to make it always fit. Or at least for me, because I have a tendency to not want change or to not flow and be like water (Bruce Lee- what was that quote he used...).
So, inevitably, the blog's role had to change because I changed, but my mind was still fighting for this to be an 'academic' space not mommy/preggo central, or a place to complain and whine, or a place to post random snipits of my life. I think that's why here lately I've been avoiding it and not wanting to post. I don't want to post because I don't like what this blog has become, me. And I'm not always very happy with myself. Usually, I'm never very happy with myself. I am my worst enemy and critic. And I know most people would argue the same, but its different for me. I come from a family where my father is a perfectionist and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I am too. So, when this blog didn't turn into a hot trobbing place to discuss rhetorical analysis, or teaching, I became soured.
The other part of the problem is that I also have a tendency to compare myself with others. Big time. What is Sally Joe's blog about? What does Petey have to say about comp theory? Whats the hot topic at Four C's? How does Coco Joe tell a story? Blog's serve many purposes and it does give you a bit of space to focus on your self (for better or for worse) and when you read how things are grrrrrrrrrrreat for others and their moving and shaking and doing er-thing you wanted to, if you have a perfectionist personality and compare yourself with others, inevitably you began to doubt yourself and feel like a failure. That's just the way it is, for me.
So, a month or so ago, I really started hating my blog. I felt like I wasn't focused, committed to the purpose of why I started one in the first place (to record thoughts/emotions about transition). I also think that not having an audience was affecting me also. Most folks don't blog just for themselves, for some it might be that this is trully a journal, a private space, but I find that hard to believe. If you are posting on the net, you have to realize there is a chance someone will read what you have to say, and I think most bloggers want that. That's why you ask questions in your post, that's why you have a comment section, or a blog role. Because you seek a community. Well, I don't really have one, or rather I should say I feel like I'm on the outskirst of lots of different communities: mother to be, former adjunct, former phd to be, stay at home mom to be, full time 9-to-fiver, wife, writer-wanna-be. In some of these communities I fit perfectly, while in others I don't really feel like I belong. And much of that is my own fault, or rather my own perception.
So, with all that said. I'd like to announce that this blog is going-bye-bye. I'm changing. I am allowing myself to change and not feel like I have to stay with this form. I'm going to be like water. (Where the hell is that Bruce Lee quote!?)
Monday, March 13, 2006
Top 10 Reasons why I love living in the South
1. Southern style sweet iced tea. (You ain't had tea until you've had it down here, its ice-box cold as my granny would say, and syrupy sweet)
2. Warm winter days. (This past weekend I've been able to sun myself because its been in the 80s)
3. Random small talk. (People, most of the time, talk to you like they've known you for years and are always ready to offer advice)
4. Food. (Mac and cheese made with REAL cheese and milk, fried everything, mashed potatoes, and the fact that we can serve gravy with every meal)
5. Sweet iced tea.
6-10. Sweet iced tea.
Ok, so I couldn't get to 10, but these do sum up rather nicely how I feel. I usually always have something negative to say about living down here, but this weekend I was trying real hard like to come up with some of the good points to being where I am.
I guess I could add family down there too.....
It would be easier for me to find reasons why I disliked it down here, but I won't even go there. Not while I'm sipping on my sweet tea.
2. Warm winter days. (This past weekend I've been able to sun myself because its been in the 80s)
3. Random small talk. (People, most of the time, talk to you like they've known you for years and are always ready to offer advice)
4. Food. (Mac and cheese made with REAL cheese and milk, fried everything, mashed potatoes, and the fact that we can serve gravy with every meal)
5. Sweet iced tea.
6-10. Sweet iced tea.
Ok, so I couldn't get to 10, but these do sum up rather nicely how I feel. I usually always have something negative to say about living down here, but this weekend I was trying real hard like to come up with some of the good points to being where I am.
I guess I could add family down there too.....
It would be easier for me to find reasons why I disliked it down here, but I won't even go there. Not while I'm sipping on my sweet tea.
Friday, March 10, 2006
So much...
The past couple of weeks have been nothing but constant activity. I've felt like I was on some sick ride that just wouldn't stop. Like when you go to those cheap carnivals and you know that the people running the rides are murders and stuff, just using the carnival get up as a way to travel from town to town, but anyways...I digress.
The activity started when I stayed home from work one day last week, I was not feeling well and my ankles were swollen. The only real remedy anyone could offer was for me to keep off my feet. So, I thought I'd have a relaxing day at home. WRONG. I settled in to take a nap when the dogs began barking like there were cats on parade in the house. They could smell the smoke. An arson investigator knocked on my door and told me to come out of my building. Apparently, someone had tried to set fire to the building in the basement. Yes, fire. Flames. Fumes. Smoke. Fire. In. My. Building. Where. I. Lay. Sleeping.
I of course had a panic attack and immediatley began the ever-so-dangerous what-if-game: What if I hadn't gotten up? What if my floors would have burned? What if this had of happened when I wasn't at home and the dogs couldn't have gotten out? What if this happened once the baby was born? What if there is a crazy pyromaniac in the neighborhood?
Once H came home, which felt like it took forever, but was actually only 10 or 15 minutes after I'd been asked to come out of the apartment, I just melted. We decided instantly that come hell or high water we were moving out.
Now enters next chaos, where are we gonna live? We've got 8 weeks until the baby comes and only 12 weeks in a lease.
No, that's not all of it. The next day I return to work, trying to catch up and get a phone call from my cousin. My grandma has been taken to the hospital. She's blacked out while driving and they don't know whats wrong with her. I panick again. Rushing out of the buildign and to the hospital I start the what-if-game again: What if she's not conscious? What if she had a stroke? What if she can't see forever? What if she isn't breathing on her own? What if I can't get to the hospital in time?
I make it to the hospital about 30 minutes later to find her wide-awake in the ER. Smiling and reassuring me she's just fine. The doctors say that want to keep her for observation, but they can't figure out what made her black out the way she did. She stays over night, more tests, more blood more, more waiting. And the next day I go back to the hospital to visit her and she's been told that they've found two suspicious spots on her scans. They can't say for sure what it is, but they do say the dirtiest word-cancer. They have to say it, or at least thats what they tell us, they have to warn us. It will be 5 days before we know for sure. She is in the hospital all weekend and dreads every moment of it, we all do. Our granny is the most active person I know and its hard to see her sit in a hospital bed, even harder to see her not know whats coming next. Finally, there is relief when the biopsy results come back and she's released, no cancer.
Now, a cooling down moment, I'm feeling better for us. But then, alas, the ride is not over, no, the carnival man has decided I should go yet another round. At my doctor's visit this week he announces that he thinks I have hypertension and that I could possibly be induced. Induced. In other words, a scheduled deliveray. My blood platelle count is also low, possibly another sign that I have hypertension or it could be thats my norm. More tests to come. I heard these words and yet again started the what-if-game: What if the induction doesn't take? What if it means I have to stay in bed and can't move around and do my yoga? What if I bleed and can't stop? What if the baby doesn't respond well to the induction? What if my uterus explodes? What if I can't take the pain? What if something happens to the baby?
The doctor reassures me that the baby is just fine and that there is still a chance I could go into labor on my own and not have to worry about any of this. I also learn that platelles dip a bit when you are pregnant and that if mine were severly low, they'd have but me on bedrest. Relax, everyone says, you are in good hands.
What if....to me, these are two of the most dangerous words in the English language when put togther. They can rip your brain and heart apart in seconds. Moving from one emotion to another was hard for me, but I think even harder because of the pregnancy. But there is something I realized through each of these events. I've got to let go of the what-if-game. I don't have any control over any of the above situations. All I can do is let God take care of us. Really, not to sound preachy here, but thats what I'm learning. As much as I'd like to think I'm in control of everything, I am not. I repeat: I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. I feel like I should write that 100x over.
So now, whats on my agenda:
Let it go.
Let it go.
Let it go.
The activity started when I stayed home from work one day last week, I was not feeling well and my ankles were swollen. The only real remedy anyone could offer was for me to keep off my feet. So, I thought I'd have a relaxing day at home. WRONG. I settled in to take a nap when the dogs began barking like there were cats on parade in the house. They could smell the smoke. An arson investigator knocked on my door and told me to come out of my building. Apparently, someone had tried to set fire to the building in the basement. Yes, fire. Flames. Fumes. Smoke. Fire. In. My. Building. Where. I. Lay. Sleeping.
I of course had a panic attack and immediatley began the ever-so-dangerous what-if-game: What if I hadn't gotten up? What if my floors would have burned? What if this had of happened when I wasn't at home and the dogs couldn't have gotten out? What if this happened once the baby was born? What if there is a crazy pyromaniac in the neighborhood?
Once H came home, which felt like it took forever, but was actually only 10 or 15 minutes after I'd been asked to come out of the apartment, I just melted. We decided instantly that come hell or high water we were moving out.
Now enters next chaos, where are we gonna live? We've got 8 weeks until the baby comes and only 12 weeks in a lease.
No, that's not all of it. The next day I return to work, trying to catch up and get a phone call from my cousin. My grandma has been taken to the hospital. She's blacked out while driving and they don't know whats wrong with her. I panick again. Rushing out of the buildign and to the hospital I start the what-if-game again: What if she's not conscious? What if she had a stroke? What if she can't see forever? What if she isn't breathing on her own? What if I can't get to the hospital in time?
I make it to the hospital about 30 minutes later to find her wide-awake in the ER. Smiling and reassuring me she's just fine. The doctors say that want to keep her for observation, but they can't figure out what made her black out the way she did. She stays over night, more tests, more blood more, more waiting. And the next day I go back to the hospital to visit her and she's been told that they've found two suspicious spots on her scans. They can't say for sure what it is, but they do say the dirtiest word-cancer. They have to say it, or at least thats what they tell us, they have to warn us. It will be 5 days before we know for sure. She is in the hospital all weekend and dreads every moment of it, we all do. Our granny is the most active person I know and its hard to see her sit in a hospital bed, even harder to see her not know whats coming next. Finally, there is relief when the biopsy results come back and she's released, no cancer.
Now, a cooling down moment, I'm feeling better for us. But then, alas, the ride is not over, no, the carnival man has decided I should go yet another round. At my doctor's visit this week he announces that he thinks I have hypertension and that I could possibly be induced. Induced. In other words, a scheduled deliveray. My blood platelle count is also low, possibly another sign that I have hypertension or it could be thats my norm. More tests to come. I heard these words and yet again started the what-if-game: What if the induction doesn't take? What if it means I have to stay in bed and can't move around and do my yoga? What if I bleed and can't stop? What if the baby doesn't respond well to the induction? What if my uterus explodes? What if I can't take the pain? What if something happens to the baby?
The doctor reassures me that the baby is just fine and that there is still a chance I could go into labor on my own and not have to worry about any of this. I also learn that platelles dip a bit when you are pregnant and that if mine were severly low, they'd have but me on bedrest. Relax, everyone says, you are in good hands.
What if....to me, these are two of the most dangerous words in the English language when put togther. They can rip your brain and heart apart in seconds. Moving from one emotion to another was hard for me, but I think even harder because of the pregnancy. But there is something I realized through each of these events. I've got to let go of the what-if-game. I don't have any control over any of the above situations. All I can do is let God take care of us. Really, not to sound preachy here, but thats what I'm learning. As much as I'd like to think I'm in control of everything, I am not. I repeat: I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. I feel like I should write that 100x over.
So now, whats on my agenda:
Let it go.
Let it go.
Let it go.
Friday, March 3, 2006
Week 32=8 months?
8 months. I just figured out on Tuesday that I am now entering my 8th month. How did I just figure this out? Well, with so much going on, it seems like time has just slipped through my fingers.
I don't feel horrible, but I am slowing down and feeling tired again like I did during the first trimester. My ankles swell a bit, and I waddle when I walk and need help getting myself up and down. My heartburn had subsided, but has now returned and wakes me up with a burning fire during the night.
But...I only have about 81/2 weeks to go until my daughter makes her grand arrival. And I'm sure it shall be grand. I'm doing yoga twice a week now and H and I attend birth classes every Friday evening. Its just hard to believe that this is almost over. Just when I was getting used to it, lol.
But what we have to come is even more spectacular I'm sure of. H sings and talks to her now, and she does thump and move in response to her father's voice. Sometimes I tap my belly and she taps back, we haven't started teaching her any intricate drumming rhythms or anything, but I'm pretty sure she's well on her way to being the SMARTEST KID in the WORLD.
I don't feel horrible, but I am slowing down and feeling tired again like I did during the first trimester. My ankles swell a bit, and I waddle when I walk and need help getting myself up and down. My heartburn had subsided, but has now returned and wakes me up with a burning fire during the night.
But...I only have about 81/2 weeks to go until my daughter makes her grand arrival. And I'm sure it shall be grand. I'm doing yoga twice a week now and H and I attend birth classes every Friday evening. Its just hard to believe that this is almost over. Just when I was getting used to it, lol.
But what we have to come is even more spectacular I'm sure of. H sings and talks to her now, and she does thump and move in response to her father's voice. Sometimes I tap my belly and she taps back, we haven't started teaching her any intricate drumming rhythms or anything, but I'm pretty sure she's well on her way to being the SMARTEST KID in the WORLD.
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