This is a blog where you can throw your thoughts, like pennies into the fountain. Some are pretty and gold. Some are old and rusty. Some may be worthy of adding to a collection. Some people think of the value when they throw their penny. For others, it’s simply the act of throwing something into the water. Either way, it lands somewhere.
It had me by the throat today. Questioning if I would ever be able to take another breath. Exhausting every brain cell in my mind. Creating doubt throughout my entire body. Making me feel insane. Do you have a fear that grips you like that?
Just the utter thought of it made me want to double over in hysteria. Tears of panic rushed down my cheeks. Nothing could calm me. Unhealthy fear is what this is. Searching for a moment of weakness to swoop in and take control.
I grieve the days of having time with you alone. I long for just a little time of us. I think of the times we were free. We went everywhere. Always together. Plenty of time for each other. Always side by side.
Now, we are lucky to have child care when we are working. I long for your touch. Sometimes, I look at you from across the room and wish for what was. I wish for a day like we used to have.
I see how people get lost in their marriage. They drift apart. They lose their Union. I promise that I will never lose my love and desire for you. Perhaps the distance strengthens my need for you.
But, I am recognizing, here and now that it’s ok for me to grieve the days we used to have. You’ll always have my heart.
School stopped. Panic struck so many. Fear grabbed hold of all. Worry lived in me. I knew one thing. Your education couldn’t just stop because of everything else. So we started… on a journey that I thought would be short lived.
Months later, I watched you blossom and learn more than you ever did in school. I watched with glittering eyes as you became more and more confident in your knowledge. I admired it. I felt so proud knowing that it was just the two of us accomplishing this. Confidence grew in me as a teacher. I latched on to your interests and what excited you. Here I am now… still watching you sail.
I waited for weeks for the county to have their board meeting and for the school to send me that email. I was anxiously awaiting all of it. I thought that would be the final piece of me making the decision. To my surprise the email from the school came: “We will still hold in person classes with proper precautions.” I read it aloud. To my surprise, you spoke up. “Mama I don’t want to do that. I want to homeschool with you.” You will never know what that meant to me. You made the choice for me. You said it like it was the easiest thing you’d ever said, like it was a no brainer.
So, here we are. I’m listening to you. I vow to give you all of me. I will help you to be the greatest and smartest being. While the rest of the world continues to panic, we will work hard. One day, I will look back on this as you are set off into the world as a bright young man. Not only will I be proud to be your mother, but I will be proud to be your teacher. Here’s to having lots of fun and achievements on our homeschool journey!
Here you come blazing for me. You saw me doing good and getting so strong and they sent you for me. They sent you to weaken me and debilitate me.
You think you’ve gotten to me. You’re sitting back laughing and thinking you’ve got me now. You’re wrong. My fire will blaze even brighter and my strength will be even stronger because of you.
Enjoy yourself now because it won’t last for long. I am a warrior and nothing can keep me down.
Know that she’s overwhelmed. She’s anxious. She’s feeling inadequate. She’s already ten steps ahead of you, thinking about tomorrow. She needs time away. She needs a vacation. She feels like she’s never enough. Know that she’s trying with all her might. She’s tired from trying. Her mind is exhausted. Instead of thinking about the million tasks she DID complete, she’s thinking about the one or two that she didn’t. She’s questioning whether she did her very best. Know that she can’t take a deep breath. She can’t “just relax”.
Support her. Don’t yell at her. Don’t tell her what she should or shouldn’t do. Just love her. Just support her. Help her feel like she’s done way more than expected. Make her feel like a warrior. Thank her for all of the little things. Tell her not to worry about tomorrow. Tell her it’s all going to be ok. Help her find her peace.
You suck. You robbed her of her birth experience. You took that first skin to skin, that sacred moment. She reached for him and couldn’t have him. I watched her longing eyes as they carried him away to “the clean room”. She ached for him. I saw it in her soul.
You robbed me of the ability to provide her with that memory. To help her hold her baby for the first time. To say all the things I usually say. You took all the happiness and turned it into stress and worry.
She will never be able to go back and have that moment. I stood crying in the shower thinking about how you took ALL our moments from us today.
Now all I can do is wish for you to be gone, for you to stop interfering with our lives. I want normal back.
I wake up. I immediately dread the day. The hard work, the high acuity, the stress. I have no idea what I will face once I get there. Will it be happiness? Sadness? Grief? Panic? Chaos? You never know until you walk through the doors. Over the years, I have built a love hate relationship with this job. It has caused me so much happiness and joy. And, it has caused me extreme grief and sorrow. Some mornings I wake up wondering, “Why am I still doing this?”
I put my cross necklace on because I know there’s no way to get through the day without my God. I get in the car and I pray on my way to work. “God please help me take care of my patients. Please protect them and please protect me.” I pray for good outcomes, for healthy mamas and healthy babies. I pray for my co-workers. I pray that God will guide me in an emergency to do his work and to do what is right. I pray for him to be with me.
I get to work and get my assignment. My labor for the day is a mother being induced to deliver her 5th child, which is a surprise gender. I immediately build a rapport with her and her husband. I’m thankful for a couple who is capable. They greet me with smiles every time I enter the room. They trust me, fully. By an hour into my shift, I’m fully transformed into my labor & delivery nurse self. It’s a different type of self. It’s full ownership of my patient. It’s an attitude of “if the ship sinks, I’m going down with it.” It’s no hesitation what so ever, to question a doctor, if I don’t feel like they are making the best decision for my patient.
Hours later, the hard work is paying off. She starts to feel pressure and my cervical exam reveals that she is 10cm and ready to push! Anticipation fills the room. I command the delivery room. I coach my patient. The doctor stands at the foot of the bed, interjecting occasionally. Moments later, we start to see the head. I’m telling my patient calmly, “Stay strong. This is the most important part. Stay focused. Take a deep breath and push again.” She gives it her all and the doctor delivers a healthy baby boy. Everyone begins to cry. I say “Happy Birthday!” To her sweet baby. I tell the mother how strong she is and how amazing she did. She smiles at me and sighs the deepest sigh of relief. This moment is what make this all so worth it. That one moment is what keeps me going back to do it all again another day.
Black crows are swarming in circles above me. I look above with panic and fear. I reach my hands up to protect myself, but one darts down at me, pecking at my head. They continue, relentlessly. I feel helpless. I run, but they follow me. I crouch low, but they follow. How can I get rid of these black crows? These pesky, mean and fearless black crows? Why do they stalk me? Why won’t they let me rest? Why do they come for my peace? Tonight the black crows are my negative thoughts tearing at my every thought, trying to break me. No matter what I do, they come for me.
Today I am thankful for him. I’m thankful for the pregnancy and the chance to be a mother. I’m thankful for the birth experience that I will forever cherish. Thankful for the pain, the anxiety, the depression. I am stronger from going through it. Thankful for breastfeeding. Thankful for all the times I said “screw the dishes” and snuggled him instead. I’m thankful for our bond. Most of all I am thankful for his life. He lives it so fully and makes me want to be better everyday. Today I am thankful for his birthday and my birthing day… ❤️
It’s the day before his birthday. Not ideal circumstances. Self isolating, power out. I’m up late wrapping presents in the dark reassuring myself that I can make it a good birthday for him still. I’m wrapping each present with some super hero wrapping paper, carefully folding it just so… hoping it will feel special in his hands. I’m reminded that I would do anything for this little boy. I would do anything to make the day special for him. Throughout all of this, that is what matters. The relationship. The fact that he knows he is important and he matters to his family. I hope that he will feel that feeling of “special” even if the wifi is down and he can’t play his favorite game. I hope he feels it even though he doesn’t get to celebrate with his school friends. I hope he feels it even if the day isn’t perfect. Because he is perfect to me.