Unconventional ~ Part 2.

April 24, 1999 … 7:15 am … Trying to place an epidural, in a spine, on a body that has gained over twenty pounds of water weight in less than three weeks, is proving to be near impossible.  I was “stuck” in the back about five or six times, before the anesthesiologist said,

“If I can’t get it this time, we’re gonna have to put you under, and do the c-section while you sleep.”

Photo creds: Memegenerator.com

“Ummm … there is a chance that my son won’t live … You WILL get it this time, because I want to see him alive, even if only for a minute!” (Wow! Look at me! Haven’t even met my son, and I’m already a Mama Bear!) With that, the epidural was inserted properly, and within minutes, the doctor who delivered my son, Dr. Yvonne Thornton, entered the room, and said …

“Now, please remember, that his lungs are just now developing. You will probably not hear him cry, when he is born.  This is normal.  We were only able to give you one steroid shot to help his lungs, versus the two shots, that you would normally get.  We are running out of time … for you, but I assure you (in her most sympathetic voice), even though you probably won’t hear him cry, technology has come so far …”

She continued on, but that’s all I really heard …  Technology?! WTF does technology have to do with MY SON, and his premature lungs … Actually, I remember a nurse saying that he was so early, that it wasn’t even considered premature, but rather … immature.  HA! A title he still holds dearly, to this day!!  (I joke … sorta)

April 24, 1999 … 8:54 am … I heard the sweetest little “Wahh!”, that I have ever heard in my entire life!  “It’s a boy … One pound, nine ounces, 12 1/2 inches long, apparently with a better set of lungs, than we anticipated!”

I will never forget that sound.  I have it on lock down in the memory banks of my heart, and my brain … I will never forget his first, tiniest of whimpers, and the thoughts that scattered through my brain …

That’s my boy!
Stronger than even the doctors thought!
A fighter from birth.
Strength you didn’t know you had.
YOU HAVE PURPOSE!
You got this, kiddo!
I will never leave your side … EVER!
THAT, is my promise to you.

 July 30th, 2000 ~ One year “corrected” age ~ When you have a child that is born three months early, you learn a lot of new jargon that you’ve never heard before. You also become super acclimated to the NICU, and you start to believe that you could be a nurse, with all that you have learned.  Especially when your child is there for 12 weeks.  Today’s word is “corrected age”.  He’s 9 months old, 6 months, corrected age. For ONE YEAR, and three months, I had to use this term.  It was frustrating.  Unless you know, you DON’T know.  To the mom who has her babies when they’re supposed to be born, it may sound silly to you, that I complain about this … It seems minimal, in the grand scheme of life, however … it’s ANNOYING … just another way to point out that my kid is different from yours … like I said … ANNOYING, and perhaps, dare I say “judgey”?! The only positive, is that if someone overheard me saying “corrected age”, it brought on the conversation, and I was happy to talk about it.  Knowledge is power, right?!  Getting back to my point … In August of 2000, I had to bring my son for a developmental check up.  I had noticed that he was favoring one side of his body, over the other.  When he crawled, at nine months, he would over use his left side, like an army crawl, but the left side did the majority of the work.  After a three-hour evaluation, the results were in …

“Your son has a condition called Hemiparesis, which affects his right side.”

In layman’s terms please …

“Your son has Cerebral Palsy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Intermittent Bullshit

A beautiful piece, by a beautiful writer!

You were goddamned gorgeous, and a fucking conundrum, my mother. When I think of all the men in your life who’d tried to solve your riddles, I laugh. The relics of those men inhabit a corner in the catacombs of my heart. I don’t want them, but each one retains a precious part of you, so there they shall remain. Yes, I’ll keep those tokens to remind me that I never want to be like you—insecure.

You’d always believed you required a man’s love in order to be completely happy. From the depths of my being, I am so sorry you’d lived your life on the cusp of a chasm so black. I wish you had known your true self through the eyes of your daughters; and I don’t understand why Tara and I weren’t reasons enough for you to be content.

I’m angry tonight—angry about your failures as…

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Unconventional ~ Part 1.

Not everything in life is always done the conventional way … Sometimes people have to take their own path, their own journey, different from that of the “standard human”.

When our children are born, you look at them, and think they can be anything they want.  The world is in the palm of their hands.  You have big hopes, dreams, and aspirations for them.  However, what happens when your child comes into the world three months before they are due to be born?! Well, all of those hopes and dreams you thought you had for your child, become different hopes and dreams. You truly just want them to make it to the next minute, the next hour, the next day.  You live from moment to moment.  Every ounce gained, is a party.  Yes, I said one ounce. My son was born at 711 grams. That’s ONE pound, NINE ounces, 12 ½ inches long.  My whole pregnancy was a “problem” from the get go. From how I found out that I was pregnant, to almost dying three months before he was even due to be born.  

It was Thanksgiving time, 1998 … I had been married for just over a year.  I wasn’t necessarily trying to get pregnant, but I wasn’t NOT trying, either.  I had also, just moved back home to New Jersey, after a short stint in Charlotte, NC. I was home sick, and just wanted to go back home.  

Everything happens for a reason, right?!  Right.  I didn’t know at the time, but I had moved back home, because I was about to experience the ride of my life, and needed my mother.  Sure, I was most definitely homesick, but within months of being home, I found out I was preggers … in the Emergency Room.  Like I said, it was Thanksgiving time, the day after actually, and my belly HURT! Too much turkey, maybe … But Damn, OUCH!!! Sharp, stabbing pains to my abdomen … literally doubled over, on the floor, dying in pain.  

“IT’S APPENDICITIS!! Get her to the ER”, my mother was screaming.  My then husband, listened to his mother in law, and took me to the ER …

“Any chance your pregnant?”, the nurse asked.

“There’s always a chance, but I doubt it,” I said quietly.

“Well … YOU’RE PREGNANT!”, chimed the nurse.

Of course, we weren’t expecting to hear this news, but oh my God, I was going to be a MOM!  I had just turned 23.  We truly didn’t know how to react. I kid you not … the first thought that went through my head … “Thank GOD I’m married!!” … You know, Irish-Catholic girl, doing it the “conventional“ way … you date, get engaged, get married, kids, etc. Conventional.  But wait … why am I in pain, if I’m just pregnant …

“Oh my God … Am I having a miscarriage?!”

Long story short … My cycles back then, were very unruly, so at the time, going by when my last period was, I would have been considered 2 ½ months pregnant, but my “numbers” from blood work, were telling another tale … So they, in fact, thought I was having a miscarriage.

Moving forward, it was determined that I was about 3 weeks pregnant, at the time of my ER visit.  I had a bunch of problems, from profusely bleeding in my 3rd month, to high blood pressure and bed rest, for the remainder of my pregnancy.

It’s funny … when you’re young and “dumb”, and all you think is (or at least me)  “All I ever wanted to be was a mom!”, no one tells you that you might die during labor (or before) … No one tells you that your child could potentially die inside of you, having to give birth to a stillborn … NO ONE FUCKING TELLS YOU THE COLD HARD TRUTH of being pregnant.  Back then, everyone made it out to be all butterflies, unicorns and roses … They didn’t tell you how rough the morning sickness is going to be … I say “they”, referring to every female in your life … Back then, we didn’t have Google to tell us ANYTHING.

I had been on bedrest for 3 weeks, when I had asked my doctor if I could go back to work, just to get out of the house.  I have ADHD, and sitting still for any length of time, sucks. My doctor and I had a wonderful rapport (God rest his soul), and I was knees to the ground, begging to go back, and he finally agreed to part-time … Not even a week in, and my blood pressure had skyrocketed through the roof …. Again … You guessed it … bed rest!  

April 23rd, 1999 … Still on the couch watching the coverage regarding The Columbine Shooting.  I had woken up feeling okay.  By 10am, I couldn’t keep anything down … nothing, at all … I didn’t feel sick, like the flu or anything … I just couldn’t stop throwing up.  My baby daddy came home from work, to take me to the dr.  Everything was fine in the office, but they needed to send me to the hospital, to get hydrated.  While at the local hospital, I was about to have a seizure, and the dr’s there, decided to send me to the hospital that could handle premature births, better than the one that I was at.  I was red-lighted from Newton to Morristown … A trip that would normally take 45 mins to an hour, took them 33 mins from door to door.  

I was dying, and didn’t have a clue!

April 24, 1999 … 6:30am … The nurse comes in to check my foley bag.  I was given a catheter, due to my weakness, I was unable to get up and go to the bathroom.  The bag was empty.  She asked if someone had been in to empty the bag, when we told her no … the look on her face, I’ll never forget it … “Ummm … I’ll be right back”, she said.  Upon her return, with the doctor, they explained that my organs were now shutting down, starting with my kidneys, and they had no choice, but to deliver my son via emergency c-section, in order to make me better.  I had developed preeclampsia / toxemia, and in order to save me, they had to deliver him … My poor, helpless, little boy.

Wait? WHAT?!  “But his lungs are just developing now, how will he breath?  Will he survive? Why is this happening to me?”

We didn’t really have time for answers.  Not at that moment in time, anyhow.. Thinking back, I was so sick, that I really wasn’t scared.  I had faith (or optimism) that everything was going to be okay.

All I ever wanted to be, was a mom. I was so close. Fourteen weeks away from meeting my son.  Fourteen weeks away … from being someone’s mom.

Everyone has a story. Story 2.

This is the last time.
Just tryin’ to survive.
One day at a time.
One second at a time.
They don’t know
What it takes …
They don’t know
How my heart breaks.
I’m honest,
But I lie.
If I stop, I’ll die.
If I stop, I’ll die.
However, I try.

I try.

Stupid pill has a hold on me.
Stupid pill needs to set me free.

This is the last time.
Just tryin’ to survive.
If I stop, I’ll die.
However, I try.

Gotta be up
Can’t be in bed
On my shoulders
Their lives depend
Can’t be sick
Gotta be fine
Need that pill
Just to thrive

Not even high,
Just gotta get by.

ON MY SHOULDERS
THEIR LIVES DEPEND!

No time to be sick.
No time for self will.
Gotta be up.
Just one more pill.

Everyone has a story … Story 1.

Last Friday, on my Facebook page, I asked people to submit their story to me.  Optimistic me, was hopeful for at least one juicy story … Pessimistic me didn’t think I would have any response … Boy was I wrong … and BOY am I glad I went out on a limb and asked!  I have gotten some pretty spectacular stuff to work with, and I couldn’t be more grateful! Thankful to everyone who has taken part.  All stories are anonymous. That being said … Here is what I have done with my first story … Short and sweet!

The door closes …
She fumbles for her phone …
She texts him.
It’s time.
She drives.
She thinks.
And thinks …
And … just like that…
She’s there.
The door agape.
He’s there.
Not a moment passes, when their lips are locked …
Tongues caressing each others mouth.
High school sweet hearts.
It’s been three, very lengthy weeks, since their last nuzzle.
You see time is not their friend, because their time belongs to another.
Yet, they can’t stop.
They try, but they can’t imagine life without the other.
At least some part of their lives.
She was supposed to marry him …
But circumstance had promised her to another.
A baby was growing inside of her.
And him …
He is getting what he needs at home.
There’s just something about her.
He cannot let go.
They tear each others clothes off ..
Propelled to feel the feel that takes it all away …

Well, at least for the moment …

Bodies thrashing, voices moaning …

It’s comfort, it’s familiar …

It’s what makes them, them …

and because of that …

It’ll never end.  

Hi.

Hi. Hello.
Have we met?
Once or twice.
A million times, I bet.
However, you don’t know me.
You may think you do,
but truly,
You haven’t a clue.
What are my dreams,
My wants, my goals,
My deepest desires,
What’s in my soul?
Have you thought
To take the time
To know what drives me
To write my rhymes?
No? Oh. Cause it’s you …
An ungodly beast,
That drives me, motivates me,
It’ll never cease.
You were the one
Who tore me down,
You were the one
To make my heart drown.
To never feel a feel
That’s warm, that’s soft.
Instead to feel feels
That are callous, and rough.
Will you inform me
Why “just me”, wasn’t enough?

 

 

Grateful.

THIS IS MY 20TH POST!! Feeling grateful, as I’ve finally hit my first Word Press goal of 20+ followers.  Since I have taken this screenshot the other day, I have even received a few more followers, as well, and I just wanted to come on here and express my gratitude for any likes, comments and feedback that I have received, the connections I have made, friendships that are forming with like-minded creatures … It’s all been a dream come true for me.

For several years, people have told me that I should write … start off with a blog, and just write.  So I did.. and then I didn’t, but now I am, and I am not going to stop.  At this moment in time, in my own life, writing is the greatest pleasure I have.  Let’s face it, raising children isn’t rewarding in the moment. It’s after they are adults, when they can show you, that the humans you have helped to nurture, are, in fact, successful products of society … We don’t get “instant gratification” in raising our children.  I mean, don’t get me wrong … there are MOMENTS when we love love love our children, and they can do no wrong, but those moment are few … and VERY far in between.  So, for now, writing is, indeed, my greatest pleasure.

When I made the decision to Blog again, not that I really intended to stop, but life happened, and there was just so much for me juggle, so I let my writing go … BIG MISTAKE. BIG. HUGE!

Gif from Pretty Woman

While 20 followers might not seem like a lot to most, it’s everything to me.  It’s the beginning.  I’ve only just begun!

Peace, love and happiness to you all!

 

Kindness.

“I’ve never met a person I haven’t liked”.

Have you said this before, or maybe heard someone else say it?  Well, for me, it’s pretty much true.  I like everyone (I’m working on this, as it is a legitimate problem).  However, why not like everyone?  I mean, don’t get me wrong … There are the few people who have rubbed me the wrong way upon meeting them, but I always give it a chance.  I mean, what has a “new person” in my life, ever done to me, to warrant me not liking them?!

That would be a big, fat NOTHING.

It doesn’t mean I need them to be my best friend for life (I have one of those), it just means that I give everyone a chance.  I do NOT listen to what “Susie May” has to say about “Mary Margaret’s” kids being a real pain in the ass.  I make my own decisions about people (and their kids), based on how they treat myself, my kids,  and their own kids and family. I do NOT listen to what other people have to say about “Joe Schmoe” down the road, who never mows his lawn (maybe Joe Schmoe is dealing with something that can’t be seen by naked eye), or whatever crazy things people like to conjure up, just to make their own miserable lives, a little more bearable.

WHAT did she say?!

You heard me … It’s fucking true!  People tear down other people, because they are not happy in their own person.  They want everyone else around them to be equally miserable.  Why?!

Well … Misery LOVES company!

We’ve all heard that statement before … But why?  Although the person may not come off as “miserable” … You can hear it in every word they speak … They complain about themselves, their significant other, their kids, their job, their boss, their diet, other people (my favorite … NOT), the fact that the sky is blue … the list is endless.  So, if misery loves company, and no one wants to be labeled as miserable, why is it so hard to just be happy (or at least fake it … kidding … kind of)?!  Why not look at what’s positive in your life, rather than what’s negative … WHY is this so hard?!

I don’t know, but this brings me to another point …

What is it about that one person who seems to love to “drive” people in other directions (sometimes without the other person even realizing what’s happening), rather than the direction they were already “driving”?! Who’s to blame … the person doing the driving, or the person listening to the driver?! ((ohhhh the things that make you go hmmmm))

What is it about that one person who will do anything to make someone feel like they don’t belong … if that person hasn’t done anything to deserve it? Again, who’s to blame, the person doing the insulting, or the other person not standing up for themselves, and asking the questions that need to be answered … “WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?”.

It’s frustrating. It’s lonely. It’s sad.

See … when you’re the person who feels left out (and I have been, plenty of times), you take a chance on asking what’s up.  The chance being … honesty.  You may throw hints here and there to your peers, hoping to get answers, but when you’re made to feel like “it’s all in your head” (when you know damn well that it’s NOT) … you stop asking.  You stop trusting. You just move forward, wondering what you’ve done so terrible, to be treated so unkindly, when all you really want … is to just be friends.

Honesty IS the best policy!

Is it?!  People say that honesty is the best policy … I believe it, but so is communication.  However, there are times when communication has been met, without the honest answers.  So, how are you supposed to deal with the situation, if you can’t get honest answers, even from the person in question?!

You don’t.

You have to make the realistic decision, and accept that you can’t make everyone happy, so don’t even try.  You will only drive yourself insane.  So, you smile, you’re cordial, but most of all you’re kind.

Kill ’em with Kindness!

Kindness will never get you hurt.  It feels so good to be kind.  It feels so good to give.  It feels so good to be a decent human being … So why are there so many miserable people in the world?!  Maybe they aren’t “miserable” … maybe they are jelly … not grape or strawberry, but legitimately …

JEALOUS! (oh no she didn’t)

Oh YES she did!!! They are jealous. Jealous?!  Yes. Jealous.  Say the word JEALOUS, five times in a row … It sounds silly, right?  However, if you listen … by the 5th time, it sounds like “Gel-US” … Gel us together, and knock out the jealousy!!!  (Ahhhh, perhaps another movement I would love to create?!)

If I were in a situation like this, I would say … “JEALOUS OF WHAT?!!? I’m overweight, my house is a “mess”, I live each day to please the ungrateful twits I call my kids, and my husband … not that he’s ungrateful, but I do live to please him too, I’m lucky if I shower daily, and I mean LUCKY, I don’t get paid for my “job”, I’m insecure … shall I go on?!”.

Being jealous of anyone, or anything, is silly, actually.  There are so many directions I could go with this, but let’s start here … People tend to create a facade, if you will, of what their lives are, especially in this day of social media.  People tend to post about all the “good” in their lives.  No one really posts about how crappy of a day they are having,  or how much they can’t stand their kid (at the moment) … well, unless they are the type that posts about every single detail of their lives, (yes, you know who you are, maybe not lol) … but for the most part, people are showing their kids on their GOOD days, posts of loved ones that might be ill, needing some comfort, but still not awful, vacations, etc.. We, as a society, scroll through Facebook, Instagram, etc, as if we’ve been doing it our whole lives (umm, you’re doing it now! lol).  It’s crazy to think how the impact of social media, truly makes us feel.  Let’s be honest … if people don’t acknowledge that they’ve seen your post, with a ‘LIKE’, you may get mad … or, at the very least, a little upset.

I’m sure there are millions of other people who feel this same way.  So how do we change this?  What can be done different?

When you find out … please let me know!

I’m being facetious … sort of … I would LOVE feedback on this issue.  For now, my advice is this … Support and Kindness.  Give support, and be kind to everyone in your life.  No matter how big or small.  Be supportive of your girlfriend, whose husband just lost his job.  Be kind to the cashier, who couldn’t muster up a smile, because her family is in dire straits, and she had to quit school to get a job, to help her family.  Hell, just being kind to the person who isn’t so kind to you, truly does makes a difference, if not to them, definitely to you.

So bottom line is this … We do not know what goes on behind closed doors.  We do not know the reasons why some people are miserable in their own skin.  We, as a world, need to be a little more nice … a little more friendly … supportive … positive … and see how much different the world looks.  It’s pretty amazing!

Peace, love and happiness to you all!
(even the haters!)
LOL

Son, my number one.

Do you know what it’s like to be me
Happy, easy-going, loving, carefree
Your vision of my face
You can clearly see
I’m smiling, I’m joyful
I’m bursting with glee
PLEASE … Do not be mistaken
While I smile for you
Inside, my heart is breaking
Broken … shattered, really
Somehow I’ve failed you, my son
Somehow I’ve failed you
My number one
Tell me what it is that
I haven’t done
You see, in my head
We’ve already won
From where you were
To where you are
Do you even realize
You’ve come so far

Photo circa Mother’s Day 1999

Dig deep, my son
For you will see
That pushing yourself
Will set you free
Can’t is a word
You’ve always been told
To eliminate from your mind
No matter how old
Remember the time
You knew how to walk
Then surgery stole it
We sat, and we talked
“Mommy, oh Mommy
This isn’t fair
Why did God create me
Just to make me wear
Braces on my legs
I’ve been casted too
Procedure after procedure
Please tell me it’s true
I’ll walk again, Mommy
Maybe one day soon
Tell me I can, Mommy
Please sing me a tune”
Sweet melodies
From my heart they would come
Along with my song
I could hear him hum
My sweet young man
You have come so far
I wish you could see
Beyond every scar
That God makes no mistakes
You do have a purpose
For heavens sake
Never give up
My eldest son
Never give up
My number one

Senior Portrait circa 2017

 

 

Paranoia creeps in.

Hello old friend.
YOU, are not my friend. Go away.
I won’t.
Then what do you want?
Ohhh … Nothing. Just passing through to say …

No one likes you, including your kids, because you’re a dreadful mother, wife and friend. Don’t forget … you suck at life. You’re so stupid, senseless, naive. Yes, she REALLY hates your guts. You’re weak, fragile, powerless. You’re ugly, appalling … a beast. How can you think you’re beautiful … Oh, right … YOU DON’T! You’re fat AND lazy. You never get shit done. They ARE talking about you, and YOU … you’re just pathetic.

Photo by: JuSteph4All

 Thanks. Go away.
Where should I go? I’m stuck in your head.
JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!
I won’t, for without me, you don’t have a friend.
PLEASE … just go away.
I won’t. You can beg, but you’re fragile, you’re weak.
Fine stay.
It’s easy for me to win.
You always do. You ruin my life.
No I don’t. You do that on your own.
Thanks. Go away.
I won’t.
Then stay.
I will.
Okay.