Yep. Life and it's humorous irony. I know I have written on this before. That no matter what I plan, no matter what is happening life ALWAYS throws me a curveball.
Probably always throws you one too, huh?
I was planning on a great post all about my sister's beautiful wedding, how wonderful, albeit ironic, it was to have a "new" brother. I was gonna go on and on about how full I felt as I watched my girls play with their grown boy cousins--and maybe a little worried by the little crushy smile I saw on the oldest's face and what it would mean in the teen years.
Then life slammed me with a couple amazing research opportunities. I was going to write a post about that. About my wonderful research opportunities. About the fact I am working on a meta-analysis, which is a pretty high level stats type project. About the fact I can see long-term implications for this research. I was going to tell you all about my awesome bibliotherapy program I get to create from scratch and implement in a local kindergarten class to build empathy. I was going to share all the nitty gritty details with you about the projects, my hopes for what they could mean, and my worries about fitting it all in.
Then, the oldest came home from school with an itchy head. And school, work, research, my "new" brother, and you, my dear readers, no longer mattered. Because life has a funny sense of humor and thought, you know what that family needs right now? They need a full blown case of lice. Yep, long blonde hair, four kids, seven garbage bags full of stuffed animals--lice would be a really funny coincidence. It will be great to watch that mom try to wash all those kids hair and comb it all out with little skinny lice combs multiple times a day. Even better is watching that dad, who has never experienced lice, completely freak out and suggest shaving all the long beautiful blonde locks off of the kids (and maybe the mom).
So, that is what I have been doing for the past week and a half. Lots of laundry, lots of combing of hair, sitting on the kitchen floor with flashlights picking through the girls hair. So much fell through the cracks this week--school was a blur, I could barely count my hours. And, there is such a feeling of embarrassment. I mean, I know they caught it from somewhere, but the embarrassment is nearly unbearable. I actually made my husband call the school, because I just couldn't do it.
I remember reading an open letter on the internet from a mom whose daughter contracted lice at school. I could just feel her judgey, hateful words ripping through me. I was judging myself.
It took me a few days to realize, that woman has no room to speak. Hell, I had no room to judge myself. I did everything I could during the whole ordeal. I sat there and picked through their hair like a freakin' monkey. I rewashed sheets daily until there were no more bugs to be seen in anyone's head. I bags a shitload of stuffed animals. And, most importantly, I normalized the experience and kept my kids from feeling like the "buggies" in their hair were a poor reflection on them as people or on us as a family. So that woman can go to hell. Lice is not our fault. My kids didn't do anything wrong to catch it--likely they just played closely with friends--showing good interpersonal skills. We didn't do anything wrong--we called the school, we took that embarrassing step. I didn't do anything wrong--I did everything right.
And this is a lesson I need to keep repeating in my mind as I wade through other difficult areas--such as new research endeavors, continuing to deal with my brother's death, school--I didn't do anything wrong. I may not have control over much--as life so often likes to prove by throwing ridiculous things my way--but so far, I really haven't done too many "wrong" things with that which I have been thrown. So I need to ease up on my judgements of myself. I am the only one who knows where my faults lie and if I continue to fault myself for life's curveballs, then life's ironic twists are going to break me instead of providing me with a weird sense of comic relief.
What do you do to remind yourself to be easy on yourself? How do you forgive yourself? What is the most ridiculously silly thing life has sent you to teach you a lesson or provide ironic comic relief?
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Flying with 4 kids=Faith in Humanity Restored
I sit here, at my work desk, utterly exhausted, with a sore neck, drooping eyelids, and a slight headache, yet, I feel like Supermom.
I....that's right, just I. I flew with all four, yep, ALL 4, children in FOUR separate flights within the past week and a half. And, I survived! (And did not resort to beating my children nor hiding under my seat!) Not just survived, but was reminded of the kindness of strangers and in a setting where people have been primed to mistrust and maintain our distance of all places. We went for my little sister's wedding, and a week of vacation with family leading up to it (more on those adventures to come when I have time to upload photos). My Grammy was originally supposed to come; however, a health scare kept her grounded so I opted to go it alone as opposed to making someone fly with us. The flights consisted of two flights down and two flights back--both with layovers in *groan* Atlanta!
I wasn't so worried about the girls behaviors. We really do have pretty well-behaved kids. I was more worried about keeping them entertained and moving quickly enough throughout the process. I don't know if you plane riders have noticed, but the whole flight process is nothing but a lot of rushing to do a lot of waiting. You have to rush through the check-in to wait in line at security, then rush through security and to your gate to wait around for boarding. If you have kids you rush through boarding (we were first on everytime) to then wait for the plane to load and finally take off, then you rush through packing up to wait to deplane and rush to your next gate to wait to board and repeat. This is NOT a kid friendly process.
This is what our trip looked like--I will highlight the kindness of strangers in purple:
Mom (that's me) rushes to counter at first airport for departure, flustered because of having to change tickets and fact they are in TWO different names and on TWO different cards so the check in kiosk is not an option. Nice desk agent says, "Calm down Mom. Take a breath, you have plenty of time and I will help you out." She then proceeds to nicely place all of the boarding passes in a very useable manner and to have a colleague carry the car seats to checkout.
Mom and crying/whining kids say goodbye to Daddy. Nice random lady brings over a bag of cookies. Crying is immediately replaced by happy cookie munching.
Mom, wearing baby (3 months), pushing youngest girl (18 months) in stroller, with a toddler (almost 3) on one side and a small child (4) on the other walks up to security line just to see IT HAS STEPS down. CRAP. Mom drags all children, still happily munching cookies/sleeping in carrier to nice TSA guy in charge of priority checkout lane, asks what to do and whether navigation down the stairs is necessary with stroller and children. TSA guy says, "use the wheelchair ramp, no problem."
Mom, children, and stroller, as well as multiple bags go down ramp. People giving encouraging smiles, not the dreaded scowls expected!
Family arrives at the bottom of the ramp only to realize the ramp ends where the security line begins, effectively cutting in front of at least 75 people. Mom looks unsure as to the next step (I mean, do I really want to be THAT person?). Nice TSA guy motions the group forward. Mom looks at the three people next in line, each one smiles and the one closest says, "Go Ahead. You need as much time as you can get to go through there" and makes extra space so young child does not have to let go of stroller to get through.
Mom gives boarding passes and ID--while toddler who wants to hold that specific hand begins to cry and grab at Mom's leg. TSA agents help grab bags from children, fold stroller, place things on xray machine, and good naturedly remind Mom to remove her shoes. They then calmly help children walk through metal detector and assist in corralling children while Mom has hands swiped (since she wore baby through).
Throughout this ordeal...probably lasting up to 15 minutes, the man behind the family not only waited for his turn without complaining but also helped mom remove a backpack that was caught in her hair.
As the family was waiting for the milk bottle to be checked and replacing backpacks on shoulders, the last cookie was devoured (leaving the toddler without) and crying (LOUD crying with no direction following or walking to be seen) ensued. The very nice TSA agents quickly came to Mom's rescue with extra TSA badge stickers. They also assisted in opening the stroller and repacking bags--possibly making the process take half the time it could have. Finally, the TSA gentlemen with the extra stickers also rechecked the family's flight and gave them directions on where to go for their gate.
The family made their way to the gate and Mom picked out a spot with some open space in front of several open seats so children could play and move around before the flight. Children colored, ate snacks out of backpacks, and played with stuffed animals while mom fed and rocked the baby. There was surprisingly very little fighting and some sharing occurring. Occasionally the three girls would say hi and wave to another individual sitting in the waiting area. Every single one of them smiled and waved back. Several carried on a conversation with the young child and the toddler.
As the time grew closer for the flight, the youngest girl and the young child got a little rowdy. The young child practically body slammed the littlest girl into the ground. Mom placed the young child in timeout, casing her to begin to cry. Not one person gave the mom a dirty look, in fact one kind gentleman came up to her and said, "you are mom of the year. Really, you are doing a great job."
Just as Mom began to feel a little overwhelmed, the ticket lady came up and gave her different boarding passes, saying, "I gave you the whole row so you could stretch out" and prompted the family to go ahead and line up because they were going to begin boarding.
Once on the plane, the youngest girl got scared and had to be carried by mom (who was still wearing baby). The flight attendents helped the older girls get into their seats, strapped in, and their backpacks put away while Mom attempted to strap the youngest, flailing and screaming girl, into her harness. At this point, the baby began to scream. Mom was able to calm him upon sitting and feeding, while also showing the screaming youngest girl the "dog-dogs" in the SkyMall magazine. By the time the flight was full, all four children were content, sucking on suckers or bottles. NOT one individual made a comment about flying near kids.
The flight was relatively simple and Mom found herself smiling as the flight attendents commented on the children's good behavior. The children had limited whining and the baby slept the entire flight. As the plane pulled up to the gate, every single one of the 9 people sitting near the family spent a few moments discussing just how well the children and baby traveled.
The family waited until everyone else had gotten off the plane to deplane. The flight attendents offered to carry a bag and one walked the family to the gate and checked for the connecting flight, asking if Mom wanted a motorized vehicle to pick them up and cart them to the connection. Amazingly, the connecting flight was simply three gates down--SCORE!
Seem hectic and busy? That was only three hours of our total travel time and only one flight out of four. I am not going to make you read through the entire trips details but here are a few highlights:
In Atlanta, waiting for second flight to destination, Mom asked an older gentleman to watch bags so she could do a family bathroom break, accidentally waking him up. Not only did he graciously agree to watch the bags, but he also heard the oldest girl, not even twenty minutes later, say she needed to potty. He caught Mom's eye and nodded, allowing for the family to do yet another 20 minute long bathroom routine--involving the youngest girl crawling out of the stall while Mom was using the restroom and being picked up and entertained by a stranger, who called to Mom, "Don't worry, I've got her!" --This trip is probably the only time I would ever be so damn grateful to strangers for picking up my children without my explicit permission!
And finally, just the sheer number of people willing to grab a bag or a child's hand, to offer assistance and an encouraging smile. I was blown away by the level of encouragement and support I received. I fully expected to hear a lot of groaning and see a lot of eye rolling. I was not at all prepared to have multiple strangers on each leg of the trip stop me and tell me I was brave, that they respected me, that my children were well behaved and adorable. I did not expect people offering to watch my bags, or even better, my children--particularly when my kids were melting down--all four of them--after being woken up from the last leg of our journey. (But the flight attendents and a stranger on that last flight did just that, and with smiles and words of understanding on their lips!) I didn't expect to see so many smiles and waves to the kids and so many individuals willing to engage them in small talk or indulge them with a wave back (20 times in some cases!). I appreciated every smile, every subtle move to make things easier for us. I appreciated the willingness to help and the understanding looks I received from so many people.
My faith in humanity was restored on this trip. I am so much more optimistic about human nature. I was blown away, and hope that maybe these little vignettes may help you see our world a little differently, a little more brightly, as well.
Have you ever had a surprising experience that allowed you to check yourself on your thoughts of humanity? Have you ever been pleasantly surprised by people's reactions to something or someone? How long did that new faith last? What did you do with it? How did it change you?
For me, I just feel more confident in myself as a mother--particularly as a mother of so many young ones. I feel seen and respected in a way that I never did before. I always thought strangers were looking at me and thinking--"What was she thinking, having four kids that close together? Why in the world would she attempt to bring them all to a store/park/college campus/airport/etc by herself? etc. etc. etc." I feel less judged, less alone in society now. I feel more supported and more encouraged. And I can't even begin to describe how good that feels--to feel like I'm not an outcast from society--wondered at from afar, but instead a harried looking mom who people want to reach out to, help and encourage, and who some people may just respect.
 |
| Yep, all four kiddos, no hubby :( |
I wasn't so worried about the girls behaviors. We really do have pretty well-behaved kids. I was more worried about keeping them entertained and moving quickly enough throughout the process. I don't know if you plane riders have noticed, but the whole flight process is nothing but a lot of rushing to do a lot of waiting. You have to rush through the check-in to wait in line at security, then rush through security and to your gate to wait around for boarding. If you have kids you rush through boarding (we were first on everytime) to then wait for the plane to load and finally take off, then you rush through packing up to wait to deplane and rush to your next gate to wait to board and repeat. This is NOT a kid friendly process.
This is what our trip looked like--I will highlight the kindness of strangers in purple:
Mom (that's me) rushes to counter at first airport for departure, flustered because of having to change tickets and fact they are in TWO different names and on TWO different cards so the check in kiosk is not an option. Nice desk agent says, "Calm down Mom. Take a breath, you have plenty of time and I will help you out." She then proceeds to nicely place all of the boarding passes in a very useable manner and to have a colleague carry the car seats to checkout.
Mom and crying/whining kids say goodbye to Daddy. Nice random lady brings over a bag of cookies. Crying is immediately replaced by happy cookie munching.
Mom, wearing baby (3 months), pushing youngest girl (18 months) in stroller, with a toddler (almost 3) on one side and a small child (4) on the other walks up to security line just to see IT HAS STEPS down. CRAP. Mom drags all children, still happily munching cookies/sleeping in carrier to nice TSA guy in charge of priority checkout lane, asks what to do and whether navigation down the stairs is necessary with stroller and children. TSA guy says, "use the wheelchair ramp, no problem."
Mom, children, and stroller, as well as multiple bags go down ramp. People giving encouraging smiles, not the dreaded scowls expected!
Family arrives at the bottom of the ramp only to realize the ramp ends where the security line begins, effectively cutting in front of at least 75 people. Mom looks unsure as to the next step (I mean, do I really want to be THAT person?). Nice TSA guy motions the group forward. Mom looks at the three people next in line, each one smiles and the one closest says, "Go Ahead. You need as much time as you can get to go through there" and makes extra space so young child does not have to let go of stroller to get through.
Mom gives boarding passes and ID--while toddler who wants to hold that specific hand begins to cry and grab at Mom's leg. TSA agents help grab bags from children, fold stroller, place things on xray machine, and good naturedly remind Mom to remove her shoes. They then calmly help children walk through metal detector and assist in corralling children while Mom has hands swiped (since she wore baby through).
Throughout this ordeal...probably lasting up to 15 minutes, the man behind the family not only waited for his turn without complaining but also helped mom remove a backpack that was caught in her hair.
As the family was waiting for the milk bottle to be checked and replacing backpacks on shoulders, the last cookie was devoured (leaving the toddler without) and crying (LOUD crying with no direction following or walking to be seen) ensued. The very nice TSA agents quickly came to Mom's rescue with extra TSA badge stickers. They also assisted in opening the stroller and repacking bags--possibly making the process take half the time it could have. Finally, the TSA gentlemen with the extra stickers also rechecked the family's flight and gave them directions on where to go for their gate.
The family made their way to the gate and Mom picked out a spot with some open space in front of several open seats so children could play and move around before the flight. Children colored, ate snacks out of backpacks, and played with stuffed animals while mom fed and rocked the baby. There was surprisingly very little fighting and some sharing occurring. Occasionally the three girls would say hi and wave to another individual sitting in the waiting area. Every single one of them smiled and waved back. Several carried on a conversation with the young child and the toddler.
As the time grew closer for the flight, the youngest girl and the young child got a little rowdy. The young child practically body slammed the littlest girl into the ground. Mom placed the young child in timeout, casing her to begin to cry. Not one person gave the mom a dirty look, in fact one kind gentleman came up to her and said, "you are mom of the year. Really, you are doing a great job."
Just as Mom began to feel a little overwhelmed, the ticket lady came up and gave her different boarding passes, saying, "I gave you the whole row so you could stretch out" and prompted the family to go ahead and line up because they were going to begin boarding.
Once on the plane, the youngest girl got scared and had to be carried by mom (who was still wearing baby). The flight attendents helped the older girls get into their seats, strapped in, and their backpacks put away while Mom attempted to strap the youngest, flailing and screaming girl, into her harness. At this point, the baby began to scream. Mom was able to calm him upon sitting and feeding, while also showing the screaming youngest girl the "dog-dogs" in the SkyMall magazine. By the time the flight was full, all four children were content, sucking on suckers or bottles. NOT one individual made a comment about flying near kids.
The flight was relatively simple and Mom found herself smiling as the flight attendents commented on the children's good behavior. The children had limited whining and the baby slept the entire flight. As the plane pulled up to the gate, every single one of the 9 people sitting near the family spent a few moments discussing just how well the children and baby traveled.
The family waited until everyone else had gotten off the plane to deplane. The flight attendents offered to carry a bag and one walked the family to the gate and checked for the connecting flight, asking if Mom wanted a motorized vehicle to pick them up and cart them to the connection. Amazingly, the connecting flight was simply three gates down--SCORE!
Seem hectic and busy? That was only three hours of our total travel time and only one flight out of four. I am not going to make you read through the entire trips details but here are a few highlights:
In Atlanta, waiting for second flight to destination, Mom asked an older gentleman to watch bags so she could do a family bathroom break, accidentally waking him up. Not only did he graciously agree to watch the bags, but he also heard the oldest girl, not even twenty minutes later, say she needed to potty. He caught Mom's eye and nodded, allowing for the family to do yet another 20 minute long bathroom routine--involving the youngest girl crawling out of the stall while Mom was using the restroom and being picked up and entertained by a stranger, who called to Mom, "Don't worry, I've got her!" --This trip is probably the only time I would ever be so damn grateful to strangers for picking up my children without my explicit permission!
The flight attendents on all the flights were so helpful and encouraging. In fact, one gentleman who gave the girls wings on the second flight also ended up responding to the youngest girl calling him "Daddy". At first he kind of let it go, but by the end, when he was holding the oldest girls hand and carrying a bag for Mom he had given up and just said, "what is it honey?" each time she said "Daddy" and waved to him. Another attendant walked the family all the way to it's connecting flight on the trip home, carrying a bag and helping the older girls get safely onto and settled into a bench on the train while a nice gentleman placed his foot in front of the stroller wheel to ensure it wouldn't move when the train started and stopped.
And finally, just the sheer number of people willing to grab a bag or a child's hand, to offer assistance and an encouraging smile. I was blown away by the level of encouragement and support I received. I fully expected to hear a lot of groaning and see a lot of eye rolling. I was not at all prepared to have multiple strangers on each leg of the trip stop me and tell me I was brave, that they respected me, that my children were well behaved and adorable. I did not expect people offering to watch my bags, or even better, my children--particularly when my kids were melting down--all four of them--after being woken up from the last leg of our journey. (But the flight attendents and a stranger on that last flight did just that, and with smiles and words of understanding on their lips!) I didn't expect to see so many smiles and waves to the kids and so many individuals willing to engage them in small talk or indulge them with a wave back (20 times in some cases!). I appreciated every smile, every subtle move to make things easier for us. I appreciated the willingness to help and the understanding looks I received from so many people.
My faith in humanity was restored on this trip. I am so much more optimistic about human nature. I was blown away, and hope that maybe these little vignettes may help you see our world a little differently, a little more brightly, as well.
Have you ever had a surprising experience that allowed you to check yourself on your thoughts of humanity? Have you ever been pleasantly surprised by people's reactions to something or someone? How long did that new faith last? What did you do with it? How did it change you?
For me, I just feel more confident in myself as a mother--particularly as a mother of so many young ones. I feel seen and respected in a way that I never did before. I always thought strangers were looking at me and thinking--"What was she thinking, having four kids that close together? Why in the world would she attempt to bring them all to a store/park/college campus/airport/etc by herself? etc. etc. etc." I feel less judged, less alone in society now. I feel more supported and more encouraged. And I can't even begin to describe how good that feels--to feel like I'm not an outcast from society--wondered at from afar, but instead a harried looking mom who people want to reach out to, help and encourage, and who some people may just respect.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Isn't it Ironic...don't you think?
Well, I have been somewhat MIA for the past nearly two months...because just as I was trying to decide whether to attack all the nasties in my back burner, life threw me another curveball. I know, I know...I really shouldn't be surprised when considering my history with life's curveballs.
I'm sure most of you have faced similar events where just as soon as you have figured out something that's been nagging your for awhile, make plans to tackle a big challenge, make a choice to let go of someone or something...life hits you, HARD, with something unpredictable, something that makes you change those choices, plans, or figuring.
That happened to me. Tuesday, June 3rd. Well, technically, June 2nd, 45 days early, I went into labor. Granted, it took a full day to realize. I didn't really have the time to stop and count those pesky (false, I thought) contractions when chasing and entertaining my girls. It wasn't until they were all in bed that I had the chance to slow down enough to lay on my side, drink some juice and count contractions. After an hour of regularly spaced, every 8-10 minutes, slightly discomforting contractions, I decided to take a bath just to make sure. Then we went in to the hospital--around midnight. Long story short, our son was on the way, nearly 6 weeks early.
I wanted to simultaneously curse life, curl up and cry, and meet that sweet baby. "This would happen to me" I thought to myself. "Of course this would happen to me." It's actually rather ironic, don't you think, that Tuesday was the day of my first counseling session to tackle the back burner, to face the fragility of life and my fear of it head on. And here I was, once again, thrown into uncertainty and fear.
And that was when I did what I seem to do best when faced with the enormity and unpredictability of life. I let go. Not in a "Jesus take the wheel kind of way", but in a realization that there was only so much I could control. I did not know what would happen, how this baby would be upon birth but my worry would do nothing but stress me, him, and the whole labor process. So, I let go. I let go of my fears and I let go of my hopes and I just focused on the labor...the one small part that I had any ounce of control over...and kept myself calm, slept as much as I could, and shut out any thoughts that might disrupt the focus on that moment, that single process.
I faltered in that focus the moment he was born as I waited to hear his cry. Minutes have never lasted as long in my life as those few I've waited to hear my children cry. There is so much love and hope, so many dreams for the future, wrapped up in that first cry, in that verification that you did, in fact, create a living, breathing human being. Saxby Rhett Anthony was born Tuesday, June 3rd around 2:30 pm weighing almost 6 lbs and needing just a touch of oxygen from his nurses before making his first cry.
I barely had a moment to revel in the awesomeness that is life before being reminded of it's fragility. Saxby was good, needed some help breathing at first, but for a preemie he was doing great. I, on the other hand, was struck with increasingly intense pain in my side. The doctors struggled to determine the cause and I struggled with the pain, not really dampened by the epidural, for nearly five hours. At that point my doctor gave me two options: continue to manage the pain or an exploratory surgery. I chose the surgery without hesitation.
That's right, me, the one who just spent the last blog discussing her fears of another C-section and her plans to avoid one at all costs, had just chose to be opened up with no guarantee it would be worth it.
The process was again unnerving, made more so by the fact my husband could not join me this time. I was determined to stay awake, to control that small part of my fate, whatever it may be. I wanted to know if I would ever hold my son, if I would ever see my daughters meet him. I wanted to know if I would be leaving that hospital on my own. I must have been scared, but all I remember now is a strong drive to know what was wrong, to know if I would be okay. I heard the doctors and nurses discussing what they were seeing, I heard their surprise and worry upon finding a large clot on my right ovary and tube, heard the urgency in their voices as they worked to remove it without breaking it, heard their relief upon it being safely placed in a jar and their awe as it burst immediately after. Most of all, I heard their joy upon saving my life, upon having made the right choice.
Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that had I stuck with the fear of the fragility of life, had I not let it go, I would have refused the surgery and likely would have died. Had I not let it go, had I fought labor and tried to hold it off, Saxby and I both would have likely died.
Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that the fear of the fragility of life almost kept me from experiencing all the joys of life. The need to control, to hold on, almost robbed me of the few things I am able to control and hold on to. I can only control so much, I can only choose so much...in the end, in terms of my life...I am only middle management. Something greater, whether it's a god, fate, or just life makes the big calls and I have to manage the consequences of those calls. I have a large hand in what occurs but trying to control more than I have the right or ability to can lead to some really dangerous and negative consequences.
Isn't it ironic that you must let go of control in order to gain control?
I'm sure most of you have faced similar events where just as soon as you have figured out something that's been nagging your for awhile, make plans to tackle a big challenge, make a choice to let go of someone or something...life hits you, HARD, with something unpredictable, something that makes you change those choices, plans, or figuring.
That happened to me. Tuesday, June 3rd. Well, technically, June 2nd, 45 days early, I went into labor. Granted, it took a full day to realize. I didn't really have the time to stop and count those pesky (false, I thought) contractions when chasing and entertaining my girls. It wasn't until they were all in bed that I had the chance to slow down enough to lay on my side, drink some juice and count contractions. After an hour of regularly spaced, every 8-10 minutes, slightly discomforting contractions, I decided to take a bath just to make sure. Then we went in to the hospital--around midnight. Long story short, our son was on the way, nearly 6 weeks early.
I wanted to simultaneously curse life, curl up and cry, and meet that sweet baby. "This would happen to me" I thought to myself. "Of course this would happen to me." It's actually rather ironic, don't you think, that Tuesday was the day of my first counseling session to tackle the back burner, to face the fragility of life and my fear of it head on. And here I was, once again, thrown into uncertainty and fear.
And that was when I did what I seem to do best when faced with the enormity and unpredictability of life. I let go. Not in a "Jesus take the wheel kind of way", but in a realization that there was only so much I could control. I did not know what would happen, how this baby would be upon birth but my worry would do nothing but stress me, him, and the whole labor process. So, I let go. I let go of my fears and I let go of my hopes and I just focused on the labor...the one small part that I had any ounce of control over...and kept myself calm, slept as much as I could, and shut out any thoughts that might disrupt the focus on that moment, that single process.
I faltered in that focus the moment he was born as I waited to hear his cry. Minutes have never lasted as long in my life as those few I've waited to hear my children cry. There is so much love and hope, so many dreams for the future, wrapped up in that first cry, in that verification that you did, in fact, create a living, breathing human being. Saxby Rhett Anthony was born Tuesday, June 3rd around 2:30 pm weighing almost 6 lbs and needing just a touch of oxygen from his nurses before making his first cry.
 |
| Saxby with his two oldest sisters 4 days after birth, first day out of NICU |
That's right, me, the one who just spent the last blog discussing her fears of another C-section and her plans to avoid one at all costs, had just chose to be opened up with no guarantee it would be worth it.
The process was again unnerving, made more so by the fact my husband could not join me this time. I was determined to stay awake, to control that small part of my fate, whatever it may be. I wanted to know if I would ever hold my son, if I would ever see my daughters meet him. I wanted to know if I would be leaving that hospital on my own. I must have been scared, but all I remember now is a strong drive to know what was wrong, to know if I would be okay. I heard the doctors and nurses discussing what they were seeing, I heard their surprise and worry upon finding a large clot on my right ovary and tube, heard the urgency in their voices as they worked to remove it without breaking it, heard their relief upon it being safely placed in a jar and their awe as it burst immediately after. Most of all, I heard their joy upon saving my life, upon having made the right choice.
Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that had I stuck with the fear of the fragility of life, had I not let it go, I would have refused the surgery and likely would have died. Had I not let it go, had I fought labor and tried to hold it off, Saxby and I both would have likely died.
Isn't it ironic, don't you think, that the fear of the fragility of life almost kept me from experiencing all the joys of life. The need to control, to hold on, almost robbed me of the few things I am able to control and hold on to. I can only control so much, I can only choose so much...in the end, in terms of my life...I am only middle management. Something greater, whether it's a god, fate, or just life makes the big calls and I have to manage the consequences of those calls. I have a large hand in what occurs but trying to control more than I have the right or ability to can lead to some really dangerous and negative consequences.
Isn't it ironic that you must let go of control in order to gain control?
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