Thursday, June 26, 2008

this quiet life.

For as long as I can remember I have kept journals. They are a mish-mash of random quotes, drawings, song lyrics, set lists, poems and of course; my thoughts. I have always marked each entry, no matter how minimal, with date and time.

To me, the time and place something was said is as important as the fact that it was said at all.

The journals are scattered through out my life. With my cookbooks, in my night stand, with my art supplies. I seem to subconsciously stash them places to surprise and delight my future self.

At least that is what I tell myself so I don't feel as scattered and disorganized as I know I am.

I came across a few of them this afternoon and started reading.

At first I was struck by how incredibly hormonal and over dramatic my teen aged self was. I found myself thinking..."sister, get over it already...there is much worse to come..."

Then I was amused at my early twenties self and the over whelming amount of drug induced entries. Almost everyone of them a ramble of whatever concert I had been to that day, or what show I was going to that night....This was 1996, the summer I was 22. Just before I lost my mother.

Things change after that. I write less and less and almost everything is drawings. I have to admit some of them are pretty good and I can see why I wanted to go to art school.

The pages are littered with quotes from my friends, professors and TV. Nothing too telling of myself.

The journals fall off in 2003. I had graduated from college and moved home. In fact the very last entry was June 7th, 11:23 am.
My birthday.
...and the night I first noticed Spouse as more than a friend.

I have never written in a journal again.

I stopped drawing. I stopped recording my inane thoughts and dreams.

I am wondering if that is because they were finally met?

Or if it is because I finally have another person outside my head to talk to?

Or if by blogging and emailing I am able to fill that need; complete with time stamp....

I looked back at the journals and missed myself. I missed the constant stream of energy that was me. To go, to create, to meet, to grow. To constantly be moving. A flutter. A sparkle. To move so quickly that none of it meant anything.

To move quickly, because if I stopped. I would crumple and fall apart.

Spouse ran after me. He matched my pace and took my hand. He gradually brought me down. He distracted, he settled, he soothed.

He caught me when my body finally gave out from all of the years of running.

Now in this quiet life I find I am waking up again. The need to go and create fueled by the life I wish to lead for my daughter.

So I can not just show her who I was.

But who I am.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

one week

The top 5 reasons why Daddy and Auntie Uma can not be trusted.

1)Gerber Peas are much yummier than

2) I should look on the bright side right? At least she is checking her mirrors.


4) I am at a loss for words...

5) You guys know we are Jewish right?

Seriously....I could not have survived without my wonderful Spouse and my wonderful friend. I am feeling much much much much much better. Like an actual person.

I even contemplated cleaning the house today.

I know, I know, don't rush into things you say. It has only been a few days.

Thank you to everyone for your wonderful thoughts of love and support. Truly, from the bottom of my heart. It meant the world.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

dirty nickels.

Well I should have had no worries on the baby weening front. She has been refusing the bottle more and more. Especially from me.
Instead she tears at my shirt and bangs her head against my chest in frustration. She wants to nurse.

I need her to nurse.

Today was my last day of treatment. While there is conflicting evidence as to what the drugs would do to her...most doctors say nothing...lactation consultant says...nothing...I just can not reconcile myself with it.

Because if The Juice makes me feel like this....

What is it going to do to my baby?

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

all juiced up with nowhere to go.

I settled back into the hospital grade Lazy Boy and took in my surroundings. I looked out the window to the same river stone covered rooftop that I saw from the birthing center only 6 months ago. I was just on the other side of the building now; this time at least I could see blue sky and patches of the green tree line. All too familiar with the process of infusion this was my first time at my country hospitals Day IV unit.

It made the same effort towards comfort as the treatment center at The University of Pennsylvania where I brought my father for his Chemo 12 years ago. The only major difference was the cozy size of the room in which I now sat. Only four chairs instead of the countless rows of cubbies, tubes and stands at the large hospital...the drone of the hundred or so infusion boxes pumping away.

Now it was just me, just my tubes and droning and pumping.

The paralysing fear of a few weeks ago finally settled into bitter acceptance. While I have been plagued by problems in my right foot for years, the numbness on the bottom of my toes and in the arch of my foot was definitively new.

That is one of the things about MS. It keeps you guessing. New symptom or not new? Sick or not sick? When do you call for help?

For me the final straw was last Thursday when I realized that each time the tingles in my leg and foot subsided I had just lost a little bit more sensation. For me, I call when the fear of damage out weighs the fear of treatment.

Spouse and I were in a heated discussion about the complications of treatment. We were making the short list of the people who could maybe, possibly lend us a hand with the baby so I could get help. The phone rang and it was one of my best friends, my blanket girl (that is what I call my ladies, blanket girls) Uma. She was calling to say hello; rare that we get that chance in our busy lives.

My question was immediate, a teacher she was just starting her summer vacation.

Could she come?

The answer, as it always is with old trusted friends. Of course.

I was rattled with guilt when I hung up the phone. Her husbands birthday, gas prices, her second job...the things which people sacrifice for dear friends. For friends who are family.

I was distracted over the weekend with yet another trip to New Jersey. When we returned home my pending infusion of 'The Juice' (Solumedrol steroids) was all I could focus on. I whined until I made myself sick. I promised Spouse as we lay in bed Sunday night that in the morning I would 'Mom Up', I would suck it up and get it done.

The infusion was much smoother then I anticipated. The advantage of moving to a small town. I read my book uninterrupted and reacquainted myself with the cool sensation of the IV drip and the taste of dirty nickels flooding my senses.

That is a fun side effect of The Juice, your mouth and nose filled with spare change. Your skin crawling from the foreign substance flowing into your veins. The oncoming hot flashes and ravenous bouts of hunger.

The being wide awake at 4AM to blog about being wide awake at 4AM.

My guilt and fears are subsiding. Uma and Riley adore each other. Riley is taking to the bottle and the formula (just as long as it is 98.6 degrees...that one took a little while to figure out).

I have lingering bits of fear over loosing my milk, over my sweet little girl weaning herself this week. But I know now that there is nothing I can do. I have no choice, she needs me healthy more then she needs to breast feed. My heart broke a little when I nursed her for the last time before leaving for the hospital. She curled against my skin and I stroked her hair. She let out a deep satisfied sigh and she stroked me back.

I am exhausted. Terrible that my doctors tell me to rest all the while giving me a drug that makes it impossible. I am exhausted, but I am amped.

I will eat, I will pump and then I will go curl myself around a sleeping Spouse and wait for morning.

Another day of being away from my baby and in a plastic covered Lazy Boy. Another day of dirty nickels and a patch of green tree line.

I look forward to another day closer to life returning to normal and pretending that this week never happened.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

go veg

You would think any child of mine would love her veggies.

Well I would think that... see...look here...

Not so much loving her peas.

The thing is, her father makes the identical expression...

So maybe it's my cooking?

Monday, June 9, 2008


When I was 10 weeks pregnant with you I bought your first stuffed animal. A large floppy dog that your father and I knew you would love; be you boy or girl.

We named him Mister Paws and he sat in your nursery waiting so many long months for you. I would go in there late in the afternoon and sit with him in the rocking chair. I sang and read you books as you moved inside me.

I looked at my future with you then...that each month on the day you were born I would capture a moment with you both.
I never could have imagined the joy I would find with each session. I never could have wished for more willing subjects.

The demands of daily life with you allow me to only look at the present. The days and months have flown by in a whirlwind that despite every warning I was given; I could never have been prepared for.

I am so grateful that we have our set date. We have your white onezie, your room, your smile and Mister Paws...counting to six has never been so much fun.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Tap Tap this thing on?

I can't believe it. BF TOTALLY outted me. The nerve.

That's right. It's my birthday.

The 4th anniversary of my 30th birthday to be exact. YEAH ME!

And I have been meaning to write about it. I have been meaning to write about a lot of things.

My Mother's birthday 3 weeks ago. My Grandmother's birthday....mine. We are all Geminis you know. Every woman straight back for 6 generations. CRAZY Geminis.

Spouse and I had our second anniversary last week. Twice in fact...dos deuces...we were married twice in 2 days. our families are that nutz We love each other that much.

The baby turned 6 months old and I haven't even posted her new portrait. Clearly something is could I miss a chance like that?

I had a whole post about how I think someone is breaking into my house; eating all of my Oreo's and shrinking all of my pants.

I was going to actually share my mentally and physically damaged self every single day. I would write...then rewrite...then delete...then write again...then go play with the baby or take a nap and forget all about it.

I need to read. 378 unread blogs on my last count and that was yesterday. Forgive me, it will take a while to catch up.

But right now I am going to go out with Spouse and our girl...and drive around...and play with my new super-duper GPS present. This thing does everything but change the oil on the car.

I was firmly against a GPS (I have an astounding sense of direction) until my Jeep broke down (again) in a ghetto and I was lost and frightened and crying hysterically on the phone to Spouse.

Crying hysterically on the phone to Spouse often results on high tech gadgetry.

hmmm...I wonder how I could swing that Ipod.