August

Oh, August. Here we are again. You know I hate you. You fill me with dread and cause memories of all of the "lasts" to come flooding back with your heat and your monsoons and your long, golden sunsets. It is as if I am just waiting for you to pass, but I would never wish away time because I know how precious it is.

Truth be told, I even hated that the expiration date on my debit card was this month. I hated having to write it. I hated that my husband expired before my debit card. I hate when people use the word "expired" when referring to a person.

I wonder will there ever be a day when August doesn't fill me with dread? With the 27th of any month come and go unnoticed instead of it marking another month passed since I have seen him, kissed him, held him, talked to him?

A&A are 18 months old right now. Every accomplishment they have had, every step they have taken, every sight they have seen he has not been here to hold their hands through it. To them, Daddy is a photograph. They couldn't identify him across a room by how he walks or his laugh. They don't know what it feels like to be comforted by their Daddy when they get hurt. I still remember what it feels like to be comforted by my dad and I am 33. They will never get that.

At least I still have the memories. I remember our kisses like they happened yesterday - the first kiss and the last kiss. Last week I came out of a meeting and as I was walking to my car, I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone to call him. I guess that is just how my mind works. 5 years of telling him everything, of having a best friend who was also my perfect partner - part of me will never be able to let him go.

Now I just have to make it through another August without cracking.

Planned Grief

I don't believe in planned grief. I have spent the last 8 1/2 months avoiding lists of the "grief stages" not because I am avoiding grief but because I want to feel things organically. I am a list maker - a checklist kind of girl. I never wanted to see my feelings as some sort of a checklist to get through, and I was afraid that if I saw a list of stages I would force myself through them and come out on the other side still as broken as I began.

Instead, I spent months not really dealing with my feelings because I was afraid I would harm our babies as they grew and developed inside me. Then I spent weeks adjusting to having 2 little humans in my care. People told me I was strong. Only a few knew who really weak and vulnerable I was actually feeling. Finally, after several melt-downs, I decided to seek out a grief group.

I am surprised how much talking to other people who have lost their spouses has helped me. Hearing their stories, often similar to ours, has helped me to see that I am not alone in what I am feeling. Talking about the things that play over and over in my mind has helped to send those visions, questions and fears to the back of my mind instead of having them ever-present and interrupting my daily thoughts. I expected to hate a group setting like that, but I was wrong.

There is still a shelf full of self-help books on our bookshelf that I may never crack open. I may never be able to hear certain songs without crying and I may never be able to hear a man walking fast in leather flip flops without my heart skipping a beat. I know there will never be a day when I am "over it" - I think one never forgets true love and one never forgets a loss so intense - but maybe I am learning to live with the sadness I feel. Maybe one day the sun will shine on me and I will laugh and actually feel happiness.

I don't feel happy right now. I still struggle with the day-to-day, but I can now imagine a time when I might enjoy life again.

364 Un-Birthdays: A Birth Story

After weeks of practically begging my OB for an induction, I was scheduled for one on Monday 1/23/12 at 10am. The days leading up to that day were spent furiously cleaning, organizing and doing last-minute preparations for the arrival of our sweet babies. I was rushing around with no time for clear thought or reflection - driven solely by the thought of finally having our babies in my arms.

I snapped a couple last photos of my bare, pregnant belly before I drove my mom and myself to the hospital and wheeled my big suitcase inside. We met my friend Shannon who would be serving as my other labor coach. We entered the registration area where I was met by the same smiling face of the lady who had checked me in for the last many Thursdays for my NSTs. Finally I was here for the real deal. She placed 2 bracelets on my wrist. The real kind, not the thin ones you get when you pay your concert admission.

My step-daughter Brittany, my in-laws and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were all gathered in a waiting room anticipating the babies' arrival. The world was at a stand-still as far as any of us were concerned. We were all here for one important reason. Today would be the day that all my in-law's grandchildren were born on Mondays. This morning Brittany made her Dad proud by picking up 2 newspapers for the babies to look back on many years from now. The day I finally get to meet the people Tim and I created out of the greatest love I have ever known. A whole room, Department, family, community and loved ones around the world are ready and waiting.

In labor and delivery, I got into comfortable nursing pajamas. 3 probes are strapped to my very swollen belly to monitor the babies and me just like every Thursday. An IV was run and Pitocin began dripping into my body. I had not wanted to be induced - I wanted no Pitocin, having read "horror" stories about it. Now, I just wanted my babies. Up 2 mg at a time, the dosage was increased every half hour.

"Is anything happening?"
"No."

"Anything?"
"No. Nothing."

I reached the max dosage of 24mg with no changes. I am told that I should go walk around for awhile. Go to the cafeteria and eat some food. I knew this was not a good sign. No laboring woman is allowed to eat, but I was not laboring, was I? I ate soup and a big cookie. The soup was good. The cookie was just alright.

Back to the room. Still no changes. Back on Pitocin. Back to waiting. Reading trashy magazines usually reserved for the hair salon. Mom and Shannon are dozing off while I sit listening to their breathing just wishing for sleep and wishing that things would move along. Willing my cervix to dilate so I can meet our babies.

Tuesday creeps in.

There is some progression and the decision is made to break my water. It doesn't hurt. An hour passes before the contractions catch up to me.

"Rate your pain for me."
"Five or six. This is not comfortable. I am not comfortable."
"She's more like a seven or eight."
"Aghhh. This is not comfortable!"

They offer me an epidural. I don't think I have endured enough to justify it yet. Childbirth is supposed to be hard, and this is just becoming hard. I wait.

A little while later I do want that epidural. I didn't know it would take 15 minutes for the anesthesiologist to arrive and drive it into my spine. Those were long minutes followed my a pinch, a burn and sweet relief.

Now they think I can't walk so I need a catheter. Funny thing is I can move my legs freely. Inserting the catheter hurts worse than the contractions had. I'm not numb where I need to be numb. I am getting scared. I don't want to give birth when I can feel my lady parts. I want more medicine, but they can't give it to me yet.

The external monitors are not giving the Dr all the information he needs, so the decision is made to place an internal monitor on one of the babies' heads. It hurts like the catheter did, but the discomfort is lingering. Neither sitting nor laying on my side is tolerable. Mom and Shannon are dozing off again. I'm playing some version of Scrabble on my cell phone. I'm losing game after game.

I'm getting the feeling things are not going well. The nurses keep checking me and my progress is minimal. The internal monitor is not registering and every attempt to re-position it is painful, but they don't want to remove it. When the Dr comes in to check me, I ask him and he agrees to remove it. He is now my favorite person.

It is now nearly noon. I have not slept aside from a small dozing here and there. I am exhausted. A nurse checks me and calls the Doctor to check me. I can tell he is not liking what he sees. He talks to me frankly. The babies are being squished by my contractions that are not progressing. Every step they take to try to advance the delivery seems to set it back instead. The harder I we work at it, the farther I am getting from the vaginal delivery I had envisioned. But nothing about this day is at all what I had envisioned because Tim isn't here like he should be. I am surrounded by people who love me or have my best interest at heart, but I am alone.

He is suggesting I strongly consider a c-section. I am free to continue to labor but he feels that it is not going to get better for me in my state of exhaustion or for the babies who are being subjected to a labor that is not progressing. There are 6 people in the room. All agree that the c-section is the right thing to do. I concur.

The doctor goes off to check the OR schedule. He thinks they can get me in in the early afternoon.

Moments later, the Doctor and a small crew of people come into the room.

"Now. We're going now," he says while directing people to pack up my things and get me prepped. Shannon is gathering my things onto a cart to take to my pre-selected post-partem  room. Mom is rushing around preparing to head to the OR with me. I am sending a few select texts to let those closest know I am heading in for a c-section.

I feel a strange sense of relief that I have no time to over think or dwell on the situation. Relief that I am finally about to meet the two people who will forever change my life and my role in life.

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Stay tuned for the rest of the story.

Real Time Update

Real time update.....
I am interrupting the regularly scheduled super-intriguing series to bring you an update that is happening right now.
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I was laid off in March after almost 9 years with my company. The recession has taken it's toll and, unfortunate though it may be, I ended up on the job hunting trail.

I accepted a position in April and began working there the first week in May. I was a little torn about it, but thought it the most fair position to accept because I knew we were trying fertility treatments and I felt that I could accomplish my purpose there in the time I felt I had.

From time to time Tim has appointments that I need to attend. Not every treatment, not every meeting with the Doctors, but some of the big ones. Ones where decisions are being made, where a lot of information is being relayed. It helps for me to be there taking notes so we remember everything and can research at home later.

I had attended 3 such appointments with Tim when I was reprimanded at work for my excessive absences. Thinking that honestly is the best policy, I leveled with my boss man and explained that my husband is battling stage 4 cancer. That did not go well. I was told that I needed to "deal with cancer outside work hours" and was placed on an action plan. It was explained to me that with me dealing with "all of this" that the company and I were just "not on the same path". I never imagined people so cold.

There are more lovely antidotes I could share, but there is really no point. I was miserable doing work that was not what I was hired to do. My personal, stamped mail was opened and read by someone in the office and details of my personal life best kept private were disclosed. I was working for someone other than who I was I hired to work for and was being treated like a second class citizen when all I needed was a little compassion. I had my personal things in a bag in a desk drawer for the last month, so Friday when I was told it just "wasn't working out" it took me about 2 minutes to be walking out the door and climbing into my car.

No, it's not a great loss. Part of me is relieved not to be there come Monday. But the other part of me, the "equal contributor" side can't stand the thought of not having a job, not financially contributing. Especially right now when Tim is fighting so hard and so nauseated he can barely function, let alone work enough to make up for my lost income.

I need a job, people. This "Fantastic Administrative Assistant" needs to contribute, like stat. Any leads you have in the east valley would be much appreciated.