(1) David had a follow-up hearing test this week, in the Speech & Language program/center of the university I attended for my undergraduate degree, which is about ½ hour away from our town. David screamed so loudly when they put the probe-thing in his ear that I really don’t know how the examiner was able to get any results, but she was satisfied and said there are no major changes since his last test. David appears to have a very mild (but permanent) hearing loss, but there have been no recommendations for hearing aids or any other intervention, just the recommendation that we speak clearly/a little loudly and keep background noise to a minimum. That’s probably good advice for most kids, right? She wants to test him again in another 6 – 8 months, but she really didn’t seem too concerned about anything. It was also nice to visit the building where all my social work classes were held - I changed David's diaper in the same bathroom I visited often as a student - it was a nice life check-in moment, to consider how different life is now, from the way it was then.
(2) David’s speech therapist visited today, I usually enjoy talking with her and today I shared with her about my recent pregnancy loss (see “Pajamas” below). Her response was really about as perfect as it could have been – gentle and empathic and sweet. She talked a little about grief/loss/life challenges in general, and having faith things will get better. Her specific metaphor was believing that morning will come, but realizing you have to sit through a lot of darkness first. She also talked about thinking about challenging times in her life as “Saturdays,” and explained she meant Holy Saturday, the day between Good Friday and Easter. She talked about Jesus’ disciples, and how although Jesus had told them a million times that he would rise from the dead, they still didn’t believe it or understand it. And how could you understand it, really? When you’ve never known anything like it, it’d be hard to comprehend the amazing thing that was coming. So on Holy Saturday, they were just sitting around, sad and afraid and shocked … so, not to over-analyze here, but each time I think about this, I come up with a different little layer of meaning. A good metaphor. … it occurred to me later that this might be her standard “don’t give up" speech (goodness knows that in my work [clinical social work] I have a number of prepared responses for various situations) that she may’ve given to 50 other clients, but even if that’s the case, I still liked it and was glad for the mutual sharing.
(I'm sure the therapist is mindful of the church-state separation issue, which is also very important to me, but she knows Matt is a pastor so she probably feels a little freer (is that right? free-er?) to discuss).
(3) Good and bad: David has been sleeping in Simon’s old toddler bed for about two weeks now. It has actually gone really well; he’s only fallen out a few times and he seems to get a good night’s rest. That’s the good. The bad: thinking about this reminds me of another not-pregnant item: one other thing I can cross off my list is that I no longer have to check the bulletin board at the grocery store, where there was an ad (with little tear-off phone number tabs) for a fixed-side crib. Simon had a 2nd-hand drop-side crib but since he used it they’ve stopped manufacturing them and strongly recommend against using them, so I was hoping to score a good deal on the safer version.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Two Other Good Things
(1) David has begun attending the Mother's Morning Out program at our church, 2 days per week, 4 hours per day. So that's 8 hours per week I automatically get to myself! Oh, and it's good for him to have the interaction and he's doing splendidly thus far. But mostly, I get 8 hours per week to myself! We are paying a local teenage girl, who wants to work with kids with special needs, to be sort of his one-on-one, because he does need some extra help (the general requirement is that the kid be walking). A win-win for everyone. :)
(David asleep on Dad's chest)
(2) David has learned that once his car seat buckles are undone, he still has to wiggle his arms toward midline, before he can get out of the seat. This is a small step but it'll save both of us a few seconds of frustration (him straining to get out with the straps still over his shoulders) each day, so I'm excited.
(David asleep on Dad's chest)
(2) David has learned that once his car seat buckles are undone, he still has to wiggle his arms toward midline, before he can get out of the seat. This is a small step but it'll save both of us a few seconds of frustration (him straining to get out with the straps still over his shoulders) each day, so I'm excited.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Better News ...
There is plenty of happiness in our household, despite the loss described below. Two major things:
(1) My husband is now a fully ordained minister - the ordination service on Saturday was a wonderful experience, one I hadn't had much opportunity to consider the significance of, given the events of the last few weeks. But sitting in the auditorium, the gravity of the moment began creeping up on me. There were lots of family members and folks from our current church, and several from former churches (including Matt's youth leader, from the church he grew up in). It's been a long road, taking more than 10 years: initial ministry inquiry process, seminary, being commissioned, and now finally ordination. We are proud of his hard work and thankful for (all) God's grace and blessings.
(I have just ordered a DVD of the service - I will have to review the sacred moment of the laying on of hands, and the charge by the bishop, because although Simon was as quiet as a mouse David was screaming his head off, so I only caught about 50% of the main thing)
(1) My husband is now a fully ordained minister - the ordination service on Saturday was a wonderful experience, one I hadn't had much opportunity to consider the significance of, given the events of the last few weeks. But sitting in the auditorium, the gravity of the moment began creeping up on me. There were lots of family members and folks from our current church, and several from former churches (including Matt's youth leader, from the church he grew up in). It's been a long road, taking more than 10 years: initial ministry inquiry process, seminary, being commissioned, and now finally ordination. We are proud of his hard work and thankful for (all) God's grace and blessings.
(I have just ordered a DVD of the service - I will have to review the sacred moment of the laying on of hands, and the charge by the bishop, because although Simon was as quiet as a mouse David was screaming his head off, so I only caught about 50% of the main thing)
Friday, June 22, 2012
Pajamas
** Fair Warning: This is a pretty serious, sad post. If you are just a casual reader you may want to skip it **
Under the separate headings of “Boy, this Sucks,” and “Not What I Expected” – Last week, I had planned to announce (in church, on this blog and facebook, to any other family that didn’t know) that Matt and I are expecting another baby, due date of Christmas Eve. It was going to be quite joyful, with a picture from our first scheduled ultrasound, and a caption reading something like, Check out the cool Christmas present we are getting.
But.
Three weeks ago I began having some bleeding off and on. For about 10 days I was on the phone with the obstetrician’s office, had two office visits and two ER visits, and had more bleeding and cramping (some mild, some severe, some excruciating). On June 8 the miscarriage was complete. I am now fine physically but Matt and I are heartbroken; this is about the saddest I can remember being, in quite some time. The journey from “it’s probably nothing but let’s get it checked,” to realizing and accepting what the ultrasound showed (development simply stopped, at some really early point) has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. … For a couple of years I was the social worker in a high-risk OB clinic, so I know this happens frequently, to a lot of women, at various points in the pregnancy. I also know (in my head, at least) that there is nothing I did wrong, and nothing that could have been done to prevent it. I know all that, but it hasn’t quite sunk in, yet.
The “Pajamas” title is because a few days after the problems started, everything seemed okay for about 2 whole days and as a vote of confidence, I bought a set of 3-month footie pajamas, non-gender-specific (yellow/green/gray with giraffes) at Target, as well as a new maternity shirt. For several days I kept one of the pairs with me in my purse, the other under my pillow, so one was always nearby. I held the pajamas tightly when I experienced bad cramps, and other times I just randomly hugged them. I am planning to find a nice box to keep them in, along with my hospital bracelet, ultrasound pictures, etc.
My current emotional state is one of realizing how quickly, even at that early point in the pregnancy (11 weeks) I had already begun the pregnancy state of mind. The one where I was already thinking about Christmas shopping and decorating, because we were going to have a baby on Christmas Eve and I wanted everything to be ready for the boys. The one where we needed to get a car with 3rd row seating sometime in the fall, because we were going to have a 3rd car seat by Christmas Eve. So now I am trying to get accustomed to the not-pregnant state. The one where I no longer need to get my maternity clothes down from the attic, and I can return to being the main litter-box scooper, because I am not-pregnant any more. Coming out of the grocery store one day last week and watching all the cars and shopping carts and people, I was hit hard by the fact that life is going on completely uninterrupted for everyone else – these people are just walking around as if this terrible thing has not happened. It’s an odd situation – so few people knew I was pregnant to begin with, and it’s not something you can casually offer as an explanation to, “what’s wrong?”
(( Don’t worry too much about my emotional state. I have lots of support and know that at this point, nearly everything I’m thinking/feeling is pretty much normal, and that it will take time and crying and talking and writing but that it will eventually feel better. Also I’m a licensed mental health person so I know how to get more help if I need it ))
We are thankful for many things about the life of our little family, especially our two boys and everything that comes with them. We are also grateful for what went well during this awful experience – the support we’ve received from family, church and friends, help with care for Simon and David, and the medical care we’ve received. We are particularly thankful to the midwife, Anne, who supported us in following this process the way we needed to, rather than rushing us to make a decision we wouldn’t have felt comfortable with. But I am most grateful that Matt and I were able to be together for most of the experience – I can’t imagine going through something like this alone.
Simon loves Nat King Cole, and we paid special attention to the song “Smile” the other day. Matt says that while Cole’s lyrics could sound pretty trite at first listen, he (Matt) thinks it’s a deliberate choice to focus on the good things in life – not to deny or forget the bad stuff is there, but just to focus on the good. Partial lyrics:
Smile though your heart is breaking / Smile even though it's aching
Light up your face with gladness / Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near …
That's the time you must keep on trying / Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile / If you just smile
And, from Isaiah:
Chapter 25, Verses 6 -8 (in part): On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear. And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces …
Chapter 65, Verses 17 - 20 For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To end on a slightly lighter note: This may be an odd thing to be thankful for, but I keep thinking about one of our ER trips, to our local hospital. The ER itself was frustrating (not one of the “excellent medical care”s mentioned above), but in the waiting room was a group of late-teens/early-20s guys, none of whom were patients but they were all waiting to hear about their buddy who was the patient. They had all been riding dirt bikes or motorcycles earlier that day and the friend wrecked and suffered a compound fracture to his ankle (eeeeeek). Normally this would’ve made me kind of queasy, but listening to them describe this accident over and over, and talk about the various classes they were taking at the community college, and other young-guy-life stuff – it was sort of a relief, and we joked around with them a little about how long we were all having to wait. They were nice, you know? And I was glad to have them there, rather than someone who was really in pain and/or having some sort of psychiatric issues. I have also worked in the psychiatric unit of a hospital, so I’m empathetic to that situation, but I’m glad it was not sitting next to me in the ER that night. So thanks, guys, whoever you are.
Under the separate headings of “Boy, this Sucks,” and “Not What I Expected” – Last week, I had planned to announce (in church, on this blog and facebook, to any other family that didn’t know) that Matt and I are expecting another baby, due date of Christmas Eve. It was going to be quite joyful, with a picture from our first scheduled ultrasound, and a caption reading something like, Check out the cool Christmas present we are getting.
But.
Three weeks ago I began having some bleeding off and on. For about 10 days I was on the phone with the obstetrician’s office, had two office visits and two ER visits, and had more bleeding and cramping (some mild, some severe, some excruciating). On June 8 the miscarriage was complete. I am now fine physically but Matt and I are heartbroken; this is about the saddest I can remember being, in quite some time. The journey from “it’s probably nothing but let’s get it checked,” to realizing and accepting what the ultrasound showed (development simply stopped, at some really early point) has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. … For a couple of years I was the social worker in a high-risk OB clinic, so I know this happens frequently, to a lot of women, at various points in the pregnancy. I also know (in my head, at least) that there is nothing I did wrong, and nothing that could have been done to prevent it. I know all that, but it hasn’t quite sunk in, yet.
The “Pajamas” title is because a few days after the problems started, everything seemed okay for about 2 whole days and as a vote of confidence, I bought a set of 3-month footie pajamas, non-gender-specific (yellow/green/gray with giraffes) at Target, as well as a new maternity shirt. For several days I kept one of the pairs with me in my purse, the other under my pillow, so one was always nearby. I held the pajamas tightly when I experienced bad cramps, and other times I just randomly hugged them. I am planning to find a nice box to keep them in, along with my hospital bracelet, ultrasound pictures, etc.
My current emotional state is one of realizing how quickly, even at that early point in the pregnancy (11 weeks) I had already begun the pregnancy state of mind. The one where I was already thinking about Christmas shopping and decorating, because we were going to have a baby on Christmas Eve and I wanted everything to be ready for the boys. The one where we needed to get a car with 3rd row seating sometime in the fall, because we were going to have a 3rd car seat by Christmas Eve. So now I am trying to get accustomed to the not-pregnant state. The one where I no longer need to get my maternity clothes down from the attic, and I can return to being the main litter-box scooper, because I am not-pregnant any more. Coming out of the grocery store one day last week and watching all the cars and shopping carts and people, I was hit hard by the fact that life is going on completely uninterrupted for everyone else – these people are just walking around as if this terrible thing has not happened. It’s an odd situation – so few people knew I was pregnant to begin with, and it’s not something you can casually offer as an explanation to, “what’s wrong?”
(( Don’t worry too much about my emotional state. I have lots of support and know that at this point, nearly everything I’m thinking/feeling is pretty much normal, and that it will take time and crying and talking and writing but that it will eventually feel better. Also I’m a licensed mental health person so I know how to get more help if I need it ))
We are thankful for many things about the life of our little family, especially our two boys and everything that comes with them. We are also grateful for what went well during this awful experience – the support we’ve received from family, church and friends, help with care for Simon and David, and the medical care we’ve received. We are particularly thankful to the midwife, Anne, who supported us in following this process the way we needed to, rather than rushing us to make a decision we wouldn’t have felt comfortable with. But I am most grateful that Matt and I were able to be together for most of the experience – I can’t imagine going through something like this alone.
Simon loves Nat King Cole, and we paid special attention to the song “Smile” the other day. Matt says that while Cole’s lyrics could sound pretty trite at first listen, he (Matt) thinks it’s a deliberate choice to focus on the good things in life – not to deny or forget the bad stuff is there, but just to focus on the good. Partial lyrics:
Smile though your heart is breaking / Smile even though it's aching
Light up your face with gladness / Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near …
That's the time you must keep on trying / Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile / If you just smile
And, from Isaiah:
Chapter 25, Verses 6 -8 (in part): On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear. And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces …
Chapter 65, Verses 17 - 20 For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To end on a slightly lighter note: This may be an odd thing to be thankful for, but I keep thinking about one of our ER trips, to our local hospital. The ER itself was frustrating (not one of the “excellent medical care”s mentioned above), but in the waiting room was a group of late-teens/early-20s guys, none of whom were patients but they were all waiting to hear about their buddy who was the patient. They had all been riding dirt bikes or motorcycles earlier that day and the friend wrecked and suffered a compound fracture to his ankle (eeeeeek). Normally this would’ve made me kind of queasy, but listening to them describe this accident over and over, and talk about the various classes they were taking at the community college, and other young-guy-life stuff – it was sort of a relief, and we joked around with them a little about how long we were all having to wait. They were nice, you know? And I was glad to have them there, rather than someone who was really in pain and/or having some sort of psychiatric issues. I have also worked in the psychiatric unit of a hospital, so I’m empathetic to that situation, but I’m glad it was not sitting next to me in the ER that night. So thanks, guys, whoever you are.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Joanna Shares Some Feelings, Part 2
(This is the same opening phrase I used in the original “Joanna Shares,” November 15, 2010)
There is a lot more to this than I feel comfortable sharing at the moment, but:
(See, I don’t say everything on this blog that I am thinking):
Last week I took David to our local library, in the middle of the day, with the intention of playing for awhile and then doing some errands. We love our library – we visit almost every Saturday morning to check out books and a movie, they have a great children’s section, and the librarians all know both boys. I can’t think of any other negative experiences we’ve had (except when Simon pooped in his pants, when potty training was still in-progress) (or the other time he pooped in his pants when blah blah blah), but this was pretty bad – for the record, I’m pretty sure it’s the only time I’ve left a library in tears.
There is a lot more to this than I feel comfortable sharing at the moment, but:
(See, I don’t say everything on this blog that I am thinking):
Last week I took David to our local library, in the middle of the day, with the intention of playing for awhile and then doing some errands. We love our library – we visit almost every Saturday morning to check out books and a movie, they have a great children’s section, and the librarians all know both boys. I can’t think of any other negative experiences we’ve had (except when Simon pooped in his pants, when potty training was still in-progress) (or the other time he pooped in his pants when blah blah blah), but this was pretty bad – for the record, I’m pretty sure it’s the only time I’ve left a library in tears.
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