Yet once again it turns out Lisa and I complement each other.
Lisa is great at cleaning up barf; dog barf, cat hairballs, Sam puke. It doesn't bother her while it grosses me out to the point where, well, I want to throw up.
I can clean poop; from dog doo to the litter box (what a treat that is) it doesn't really affect me. Lisa isn't that into cleaning the back yard of Poly bombs.
Looking ahead to an infant who will have the ability to spew from both ends, sometimes at the same time, it is nice to know Lisa and I are prepared to start at both ends and meet in the middle.
Just wanted you all to know.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Life In The Middle
I helped lay my mom to rest on Monday.
I turned 40 today.
I will be a dad (again) in a month.
I don't doubt my strength to confront all of these challenges. The tragic and the milestone and the wondrous. Having Lisa by my side helps. Yet, there it is, all of it. I am numb as I try to "process" and yet I am fully aware that my son is due within weeks.
I am trapped between two sets of emotions - one of complete grief and loss. The other is of joy and life-to-be. Being trapped I am standing on the line, unwilling, unable to move too far in either direction in fear of betraying the other. Standing on this line I am aware of my own mortality now that I am 25 years from the age when mom died and 33 years from the age when dad died. Between the loss of my mother and the birth of my son.
I turned 40 today.
I will be a dad (again) in a month.
I don't doubt my strength to confront all of these challenges. The tragic and the milestone and the wondrous. Having Lisa by my side helps. Yet, there it is, all of it. I am numb as I try to "process" and yet I am fully aware that my son is due within weeks.
I am trapped between two sets of emotions - one of complete grief and loss. The other is of joy and life-to-be. Being trapped I am standing on the line, unwilling, unable to move too far in either direction in fear of betraying the other. Standing on this line I am aware of my own mortality now that I am 25 years from the age when mom died and 33 years from the age when dad died. Between the loss of my mother and the birth of my son.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Horrible Juxtaposition
This is hard to write and I don't know where to begin.
On Friday my mom had a routine surgery to repair a hernia. For the next two and a half days she recovered slowly. She got out of bed, walked around, ate solid food. On Monday her blood pressure dropped to the point where she needed to go to ICU. Thirty-six hours later she needed to be intubated to help her breathe. By 3am we were notified that mom was "in grave condition" and we should come to the hospital. By 11:25 Wednesday morning mom died with her sons and their wives by her side.
Shock. Anguish. Absolute bewilderment.
Ten months ago I sat by my dad's side and stayed with him until the end. I was ready for dad to go after three years of cancer and six weeks of watching him waste away. It was a blessing.
This was so much different. Tubes, wires, monitors, sounds of respirators and alarms. There in the center of the bed was my mom. Sedated, unconscious, and gasping against the air being forced into her lungs. Andy and Mare were there, and had been for hours. They left us alone and the enormity of the event crushed me. I fell apart. I had been holding on to a misplaced hope that something in Andy's messages were poorly translated from the doctor to him to me. What was in front of me was undeniable.
Doctors. Choices. Inevitable decisions.
Somehow, in a way that has yet to be adequately explained by her doctors, mom lost the blood supply to her small intestine. Her intestine died. With 90% of the vital organ gone there was nothing anyone could do. Together we made the decision to let her go. We know that this is something that she would have wanted versus an agonizing and slow death.
My mom was a nurse and for many years she taught a class in death and dying. We knew from listening to her that she could "hear" us even in her sedated state. We spoke in her ear and let her know what she was up against. We let her know that we were by her side and would stay there until the end. We told her not to fight.
In one hand I held hers. In the other I held Lisa's close to her stomach. And then it happened. The baby kicked. Two hands at the opposite ends of life. In the distance of my arms was entire lifetime. Lisa, who doesn't let too many people touch her, stood with mom and held mom's hand to her belly for a long time.
Death. Life. That brief space in between.
She was removed from life support. We spoke to her and kissed her. With the four of there mom slipped away peacefully. She was gone.
In my anger and bewilderment I think of our unborn son who will never be held by his grandmother, a grandma who spoiled and dotted on her three other grandchildren. My hope is there is a place that the two of them are sharing right now and the love that mom has shown her grandchildren is being poured out to this one, soon-to-be. I hurt for my son who will only know this woman through the stories of his dad, mom, and sister. I hurt for my mom, gone too soon who was looking forward to this child. I hurt for me and Lisa and Sam who are left still questioning why she was taken from us.
I miss you mom. Peace. We love you.
On Friday my mom had a routine surgery to repair a hernia. For the next two and a half days she recovered slowly. She got out of bed, walked around, ate solid food. On Monday her blood pressure dropped to the point where she needed to go to ICU. Thirty-six hours later she needed to be intubated to help her breathe. By 3am we were notified that mom was "in grave condition" and we should come to the hospital. By 11:25 Wednesday morning mom died with her sons and their wives by her side.
Shock. Anguish. Absolute bewilderment.
Ten months ago I sat by my dad's side and stayed with him until the end. I was ready for dad to go after three years of cancer and six weeks of watching him waste away. It was a blessing.
This was so much different. Tubes, wires, monitors, sounds of respirators and alarms. There in the center of the bed was my mom. Sedated, unconscious, and gasping against the air being forced into her lungs. Andy and Mare were there, and had been for hours. They left us alone and the enormity of the event crushed me. I fell apart. I had been holding on to a misplaced hope that something in Andy's messages were poorly translated from the doctor to him to me. What was in front of me was undeniable.
Doctors. Choices. Inevitable decisions.
Somehow, in a way that has yet to be adequately explained by her doctors, mom lost the blood supply to her small intestine. Her intestine died. With 90% of the vital organ gone there was nothing anyone could do. Together we made the decision to let her go. We know that this is something that she would have wanted versus an agonizing and slow death.
My mom was a nurse and for many years she taught a class in death and dying. We knew from listening to her that she could "hear" us even in her sedated state. We spoke in her ear and let her know what she was up against. We let her know that we were by her side and would stay there until the end. We told her not to fight.
In one hand I held hers. In the other I held Lisa's close to her stomach. And then it happened. The baby kicked. Two hands at the opposite ends of life. In the distance of my arms was entire lifetime. Lisa, who doesn't let too many people touch her, stood with mom and held mom's hand to her belly for a long time.
Death. Life. That brief space in between.
She was removed from life support. We spoke to her and kissed her. With the four of there mom slipped away peacefully. She was gone.
In my anger and bewilderment I think of our unborn son who will never be held by his grandmother, a grandma who spoiled and dotted on her three other grandchildren. My hope is there is a place that the two of them are sharing right now and the love that mom has shown her grandchildren is being poured out to this one, soon-to-be. I hurt for my son who will only know this woman through the stories of his dad, mom, and sister. I hurt for my mom, gone too soon who was looking forward to this child. I hurt for me and Lisa and Sam who are left still questioning why she was taken from us.
I miss you mom. Peace. We love you.
Monday, April 09, 2007
The Alien Inside Her
Lying in bed the other evening, Lisa was playing music for the baby via an iPod and headphones when it happened; the baby moved. The baby moved so that we could see it. Like that scene in Alien where John Hurt's stomach expands, something moved inside of Lisa.
I tried something my mom tried when she was carrying me - I put a cold drink on Lisa's belly. Aside from Lisa yelping, her entire stomach changed shape as the baby moved to a warmer climate.
It's really amazing that there is a thing living inside of another human being. When you stop and think about the nine month gestation period and how a life grows in there it is truly amazing.
I wonder what it must be like for him in there; the sounds of our voices, the pitter-patter of water during a shower, moving during yoga, the dark, the sensation of floating.
It's no longer a matter of months - it's down to weeks before the alien emerges.
I tried something my mom tried when she was carrying me - I put a cold drink on Lisa's belly. Aside from Lisa yelping, her entire stomach changed shape as the baby moved to a warmer climate.
It's really amazing that there is a thing living inside of another human being. When you stop and think about the nine month gestation period and how a life grows in there it is truly amazing.
I wonder what it must be like for him in there; the sounds of our voices, the pitter-patter of water during a shower, moving during yoga, the dark, the sensation of floating.
It's no longer a matter of months - it's down to weeks before the alien emerges.
Making Room For Baby
The big decision is what room will the baby live in.
We have a nice little home. Emphasis on little. Little enough for three to four people. We have a nice "new" kitchen, living room, dining room, basement, garage. There are three bedrooms; one for Lisa and I with an entire wall of closet space, Sam's room that is painted bright yellow with a mural on one wall, and the guest/office/other/my closest room.
Moving Samantha is not an option, she likes her room and has staked her territory, and giving her a larger room isn't really necessary. That leaves the guest room or our room.
Our room is smaller than the guest room becasue of the aforementioned added closet. However, it catches the morning light just right and has a nice ceiling fan for the summer. Did I mention that Lisa's clothes are in the closet? One row of slacks, a row of tops, a top shelf of shoes, sweaters, and other dresses, etc - and still there is still a chest of seasonsal clothing for each time of the year. Putting the baby in this room means that the room will be shared by mommy and baby. Plus the thought of exchanging furniture between rooms is unpleasant to say the least.
The guest room is larger than the other two rooms giving the baby lots and lots of space that he won't be using for at least a year when he is more mobile. We can put a day bed into the room to make it more usable for grown ups. A fresh coat of paint and some curtains can "babify" the room.
Right now - as you read this - you are saying the same thing Lisa is saying; time to move. Certainly necessary but not on the agenda for right now. Cozy is nice for now. When we get to the point of "living on top of one another" then it will be a problem.
We have a nice little home. Emphasis on little. Little enough for three to four people. We have a nice "new" kitchen, living room, dining room, basement, garage. There are three bedrooms; one for Lisa and I with an entire wall of closet space, Sam's room that is painted bright yellow with a mural on one wall, and the guest/office/other/my closest room.
Moving Samantha is not an option, she likes her room and has staked her territory, and giving her a larger room isn't really necessary. That leaves the guest room or our room.
Our room is smaller than the guest room becasue of the aforementioned added closet. However, it catches the morning light just right and has a nice ceiling fan for the summer. Did I mention that Lisa's clothes are in the closet? One row of slacks, a row of tops, a top shelf of shoes, sweaters, and other dresses, etc - and still there is still a chest of seasonsal clothing for each time of the year. Putting the baby in this room means that the room will be shared by mommy and baby. Plus the thought of exchanging furniture between rooms is unpleasant to say the least.
The guest room is larger than the other two rooms giving the baby lots and lots of space that he won't be using for at least a year when he is more mobile. We can put a day bed into the room to make it more usable for grown ups. A fresh coat of paint and some curtains can "babify" the room.
Right now - as you read this - you are saying the same thing Lisa is saying; time to move. Certainly necessary but not on the agenda for right now. Cozy is nice for now. When we get to the point of "living on top of one another" then it will be a problem.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)