There have been significant changes in my life and in the kids' lives, good changes. Healing. Rebuidling. Love carefully, gently, patiently stitching a new family together. I got married. To a man the kids adore - they call him "Woogie". He's been with us through everything. About a year ago the kids stopped calling their Dad "Daddy" and instead started referring to him by his name when we talked about him. Sometimes it felt like they were making a point of saying something about him just to hear themselves call him by his name, to feel the word inside their mouths. And they didn't really know what to call my then-boyfriend. They had grown to love him, to the point that calling him by his name didn't seem right. But "Daddy" wasn't available. The person who was the one person who that name was for is gone. Painfully. They won't give that name to another, ever. So, Woogie. He's good with it. I'm good with it. We're all good with it.
Since our marriage, we have both lost weight. Not really trying, but we watched "Forks Over Knives". We have been flirting with going vegetarian, maybe even vegan, for a while now. We watched "Food, Inc.", and affirmed that we would only eat local, farm-raised, locally slaughtered and butchered meat. Then came "Forks Over Knives". The mountain of research and data demonstrating the terrible health effects of animal protein. The multiple cases of dramatically ill individuals, some whose doctors had given up on them and told them to prepare to die, recovering healthy, vital lives simply by changing to a plant-based diet of whole foods. It was stunning.
When you have your kids a little later in life, the idea of longevity changes from a nice thing to do for yourself to an imperative for your kids (and your grandkids, should you be so blessed). And if one parent has already died, well, you can't help but feel like you have to be that much more stable, that much stronger, that much healthier and present and available. Because you do. In addition to planning on running a marathon next February, I'm trying to change my body's chemistry. Not that it was bad to begin with. I had low blood pressure, good weight, excellent cholesterol. But I'm 43, and I want to live to be 100. Am I jinxing myself saying that out loud? I don't see any reason, short of the statistical things like getting hit by a drunk driver, why I shouldn't stay strong, active and healthy for a long, long time.
So we're making the change to being vegetarians with a view toward vegan, and I'm realizing that I'm having to start over in the kitchen in many ways. When you eat meat, making dinner is actually easier. Or right now it seems so. I could throw a piece of meat in the oven or the skillet, whether it was tilapia, chicken legs, brisket - add a quick salad, a veggie, and we were done. I didn't have to think about it much.
Now, because it's new, I have to think about it. And it seems like there's more prep work in vegetarian cooking. More things to chop. More grains to cook. Things to roast, blend, soak. I'm following two guiding principles - not to rely on meat substitutes (I'm trying to stay away from tofu and tempeh), and not to put too many ingredients into any one dish. There's lentil loaf and ratatouille, which necessarily require a lot of ingredients, but other than that, I'm trying to keep it simple.
Tonight's dinner, for example, was a salad of cantaloupe and mango with vanilla soy yogurt, a kale-potato pie, and a carrot-quinoa side. There were different flavors on the plate, which helps the kids, but each dish was very simple. The pie had 6 ingredients (crust, kale, potatoes, bread crumbs, parmesan, olive oil), but was still very simple. I plan to start posting some of the meals and recipes, as I've done before, but I'm realizing that there's a lot of room for creativity in vegetarian cooking, and I want to have a place to write down what I've cooked so I won't forget the dishes later. The other night we had grilled grape tomatoes with a canellini bean sauce that came out very nice. I don't want to forget that one either.
And, um, I know I have a few followers on this blog. It means a lot to me to know you're there. This is the place where I've put some of my most personal thoughts and difficult times, and you have been 100% supportive, and you didn't have to be. We have been through a few more milestones and hoops that may help someone else who is a caregiver to a child coping with the loss of a parent. But I just wanted to say "thank you". And I hope I can give back here, hopefully sharing some bit of information or lesson learned that helps someone else.
There is nothing to do but love everyone.
3.02.2012
The Universe Has Answers
Every now and then I sit down, close my eyes, clear my head, and have a conversation with what I'll call my Higher Self. You can call it Joe. Or Edna. Whatever. Doesn't matter. The thing is, I have learned, if I ask questions, I get answers. One time I wrote the conversation down in a Word file, then forgot about it. I rediscover that file every few years. Today I found it again, and decided it was time to send these answers out there. Just because. Someone out there besides me is supposed to read this right now. You know who you are.
From May 6, 2003:
Will there ever be peace in the world?
Yes.
Why are there so many wars?
Because you have not yet found yourselves.
What do you mean?
You are lost.
How do we find ourselves?
Look inside.
Do you mean that we should be more introspective?
No. If you look inside you will find all of your selves there. Until you recognize others as yourself you are lost.
One day we will all find ourselves?
It is the inevitable destiny. It is not guaranteed to be peaceful.
So you mean that we could destroy ourselves to achieve peace?
That’s one way.
How do we achieve peace with ourselves individually?
Accept who you are right now.
What if who I am right now is a terrible person?
Then accept that.
Shouldn’t I try to be a better person?
Sure. And the first step is to accept that right now you are a terrible person.
How many lives do we have?
For your purposes, one.
Why have you qualified your answer?
Because you shouldn’t distract yourself with the possibility of other lives. Just focus on this one now.
Will you ever grow tired of answering these questions?
I have no concept for “grow tired”.
From May 6, 2003:
Will there ever be peace in the world?
Yes.
Why are there so many wars?
Because you have not yet found yourselves.
What do you mean?
You are lost.
How do we find ourselves?
Look inside.
Do you mean that we should be more introspective?
No. If you look inside you will find all of your selves there. Until you recognize others as yourself you are lost.
One day we will all find ourselves?
It is the inevitable destiny. It is not guaranteed to be peaceful.
So you mean that we could destroy ourselves to achieve peace?
That’s one way.
How do we achieve peace with ourselves individually?
Accept who you are right now.
What if who I am right now is a terrible person?
Then accept that.
Shouldn’t I try to be a better person?
Sure. And the first step is to accept that right now you are a terrible person.
How many lives do we have?
For your purposes, one.
Why have you qualified your answer?
Because you shouldn’t distract yourself with the possibility of other lives. Just focus on this one now.
Will you ever grow tired of answering these questions?
I have no concept for “grow tired”.
12.01.2011
Finally had "the dream"
One of the things I've learned in my group for survivors of suicide is that it's common for survivors to have dreams of their loved ones where they see them happy and whole again. For survivors, it's a way to somehow feel like they connected with their loved one from the other side, and got the information that their loved one was okay. The evening that we talked about this in depth I cried (heck, I cry most of those evenings) because I hadn't had one of those dreams, and because I felt like maybe it was because I still had quite a bit of anger at him for choosing to leave like that. And because I wanted to know that he was okay.
I had a dream tonight, that was very vivid for how early I had it. I was hanging out, unpleasantly but it couldn't be avoided, with his friends who had shunned and blamed me during the separation and after his suicide. And I saw some photos of some gathering that they'd had afterwards where they had set out things that reminded them of him that happened to have been things that they'd taken from the house after he'd died. I was a little peeved to see the actual photos of all of the stuff, because there was a lot of it, things that I'd forgotten about. Things that they'd helped themselves to and not asked or let me know they'd taken (this part is true). And it was very uncomfortable because, far as I know, they all still hate and blame me. I ran into one of them at the grocery today, and she made a little wave and complimented my new short hair cut. As if she were an old friend. Very, very weird. So dreaming of hanging out with them was strange and not something I'd dreamt about before. I realized that I was sitting at a table with some of his old friends from Reed, one of whom was getting married, and suddenly I realize he's sitting beside me, except no one else can see him. He's trying to join in on the conversation, making jokes, but I'm the only one who can hear him. And when I look at him, I see three of him, from different ages, sitting beside me, all of them happy and laughing and making jokes. He was yelling "Pop corducts!" and I finally said out loud to everyone, "he's trying to say 'pop corducts'. He's saying 'pop corducts'." I was laughing and crying at the same time because I was so happy to see him, many of him at different ages, happy. And also because what the hell is pop corducts? It was totally something random, slightly techie and obscure that he would make a joke out of. He was waaaayyyy funnier than I am. Everyone got quiet, because they either had no idea what I was talking about, or because it's just unacceptable to that crowd that I could still have any connection to him.
But I had the dream. I saw him. He was sitting beside me and he was *happy*. He was happy. I heard his voice, making jokes and laughing, and he looked right at me, like, See? I'm okay. This is how it is. I'm healed from every hurt from every age. It's okay. I'm okay.
I had a dream tonight, that was very vivid for how early I had it. I was hanging out, unpleasantly but it couldn't be avoided, with his friends who had shunned and blamed me during the separation and after his suicide. And I saw some photos of some gathering that they'd had afterwards where they had set out things that reminded them of him that happened to have been things that they'd taken from the house after he'd died. I was a little peeved to see the actual photos of all of the stuff, because there was a lot of it, things that I'd forgotten about. Things that they'd helped themselves to and not asked or let me know they'd taken (this part is true). And it was very uncomfortable because, far as I know, they all still hate and blame me. I ran into one of them at the grocery today, and she made a little wave and complimented my new short hair cut. As if she were an old friend. Very, very weird. So dreaming of hanging out with them was strange and not something I'd dreamt about before. I realized that I was sitting at a table with some of his old friends from Reed, one of whom was getting married, and suddenly I realize he's sitting beside me, except no one else can see him. He's trying to join in on the conversation, making jokes, but I'm the only one who can hear him. And when I look at him, I see three of him, from different ages, sitting beside me, all of them happy and laughing and making jokes. He was yelling "Pop corducts!" and I finally said out loud to everyone, "he's trying to say 'pop corducts'. He's saying 'pop corducts'." I was laughing and crying at the same time because I was so happy to see him, many of him at different ages, happy. And also because what the hell is pop corducts? It was totally something random, slightly techie and obscure that he would make a joke out of. He was waaaayyyy funnier than I am. Everyone got quiet, because they either had no idea what I was talking about, or because it's just unacceptable to that crowd that I could still have any connection to him.
But I had the dream. I saw him. He was sitting beside me and he was *happy*. He was happy. I heard his voice, making jokes and laughing, and he looked right at me, like, See? I'm okay. This is how it is. I'm healed from every hurt from every age. It's okay. I'm okay.
10.26.2011
Seriously, How Do They Do It
Let me just tell you right now, folks. You families who work, have your kids in activities, volunteer, go to church, stay fit and healthy and keep up with your friends and families, I have no idea how you do it. Really. Do you have a personal assistant? Do you have bologna sandwiches for dinner every night? Secret robot clones?
If I were to map out how well I feel like I fill each of those roles, it would look like this (percentages reflect how well I'm doing compared to how well I wish I was doing):
Work: 73% (writing isn't getting the attention I wish it was; I'm having issues with procrastination, like right now)
Kids activities: 90% (they do plenty, but I feel like I'm a little low on the playdate scale)
Volunteer: 50% (I'm pretty active at the school, but I wish I was more active in my neighborhood and with at-risk youth)
Go to church: 5% (I'm eyeing the Unitarian church but haven't gone yet; I still get 5% for teaching the kids meditation and prayer and having conversations about God)
Stay fit: 10% (I still eat pretty healthy, but I'm not excercising at all right now except for the playing with the kids and Sunday family hike with the dog)
Keep up with friends: 20% (I don't even have time to keep up on FB; I'm not sure why I've given myself even 20% here)
When I pick up the kids at school I see other parents who have kids as young as mine, maybe one or two more than I have, and I know their kids are great and happy, I've seen them doing the heavy-lifting sort of volunteering around the school, I know they go to church, have careers, and active social lives to boot.
My hat's off to you if you're one of these people. You are a force of nature.
If I were to map out how well I feel like I fill each of those roles, it would look like this (percentages reflect how well I'm doing compared to how well I wish I was doing):
Work: 73% (writing isn't getting the attention I wish it was; I'm having issues with procrastination, like right now)
Kids activities: 90% (they do plenty, but I feel like I'm a little low on the playdate scale)
Volunteer: 50% (I'm pretty active at the school, but I wish I was more active in my neighborhood and with at-risk youth)
Go to church: 5% (I'm eyeing the Unitarian church but haven't gone yet; I still get 5% for teaching the kids meditation and prayer and having conversations about God)
Stay fit: 10% (I still eat pretty healthy, but I'm not excercising at all right now except for the playing with the kids and Sunday family hike with the dog)
Keep up with friends: 20% (I don't even have time to keep up on FB; I'm not sure why I've given myself even 20% here)
When I pick up the kids at school I see other parents who have kids as young as mine, maybe one or two more than I have, and I know their kids are great and happy, I've seen them doing the heavy-lifting sort of volunteering around the school, I know they go to church, have careers, and active social lives to boot.
My hat's off to you if you're one of these people. You are a force of nature.
9.01.2011
Too Much Information About Transvaginal Sonograms
Last May I posted about the new Texas Law requiring women to have an extended sonogram prior to undergoing an abortion procedure during which the administering technician (not always a doctor) locates and describes in detail the current state of the fetus's anatomy, including organs and limbs. She also has to be provided audio of the heartbeat if it is audible.
Opponents of abortion, such as Karen Garnett of the Catholic Pro-Life Committee of the Diocese of Dallas, argue that this information is needed to educate the pregnant woman to understand the "separate uniqueness of that life before they make that decision." (attribution - the Wall Street Journal, "Perry Condemns Court Ruling on Sonogram Law," Sept. 1, 2011)
Here's the thing: the regular time at which women undergo a sonogram as part of standard prenatal care to check for correct organ development and anatomy of the fetus is at 18 - 20 weeks gestation. Prior to that, the images are unreliable. If you are fortunate enough to live in Texas and have medical insurance and have access to thorough pre-natal care where you live, you'll receive your first ultrasound around 8 weeks just to check that there is a gestational sac, that there's a heartbeat, that the embryo is favorably positioned in the uterus, that the placenta is developing. Not to examine the organs and limbs.
But approximately 90% of abortions happen before 12 weeks.1
Early in pregnancy, the sonogram is performed not with the swipe across the belly like you see on TV, but with a transvaginal probe, usually described as a "wand", because transabdominal ultrasounds don't provide a reliable image early on. This "wand" is large and long, and although one website advised the patient might feel "some pressure", the procedure is painless, it assuringly tells us.
I'm here to tell you, when the technician handling the wand is trying to get a good image of the fetus, there is a lot of forceful angling and jamming. Imagine having your tonsils examined by reaching up through your pelvis.
Receiving a sonogram prior to an abortion is standard medical procedure, to confirm the presence and location of the embryo. Receiving a transvagingal sonogram to examine and confirm the organ development of an early pregnancy (<12 weeks) is not standard medical procedure either for an abortion or for regular prenatal care. The procedure is usually performed by a technician, not a medical doctor. The anatomical information available at this early stage is sketchy at best, even for a doctor. And the physical trauma caused to the woman to attempt to obtain this information - I'll let your imagination take you there. Personally, I'm reminded of torture procedures favored by The Inquisition.
I understand the tragedy of abortion. I really do. But writing a law to require an extended, painful and humiliating procedure that is of no medical value is no way to achieve a reduction in abortions. Was there a companion law for women who choose life to also receive adequate prenatal care, including regular sonograms, for free regardless of insurance? Of course not. If you want adequate prenatal care in Texas, apparently you have to consider having an abortion.
And for those callous few who believe that a woman considering an abortion should experience the aggressive probing below as some sort of punishment for her behavior, clearly you have some other agenda at work beside protecting the sanctity of life.
I come from a decidedly pro-life, Catholic upbringing. My parents oppose abortion, but when I was pregnant with my second child at age 39, we all collectively held our breath for several weeks until we got past all of the chromosomal screens. Whether to proceed with the pregnancy if there had been evidence of a likely chromosomal abnormality was a very private decision that I shared with my family. Now, apparently, Karen Garnett, Rick Perry, and Greg Abbott (the Texas Attorney General) have pulled up chairs in the living room to weigh in with their own opinions on what decision I should make in this very private matter. Except they have the force of the law on their sides.
Fortunately, the Center for Reproductive Rights challenged the Texas law as unconstitutional in federal court and the judge (notably a George H.W. Bush appointee) agreed that the law went too far. He was okay with requiring a sonogram, but not with legally forcing specific speech between medical caregivers and their patients.
Locally, much of the response is complaining about a New York-based non-profit interfering with Texans' right to govern themselves as they please. The same arguments were made by southern states opposed to civil rights activists invading their borders to support desegregation. Like it or not folks, the Constitution is a bright-line federal law that the states don't get to cross. Requiring individuals who disagree with you to perform specific acts of speech to advance your own ideological agenda is not something you get to do in America. And be glad that that's the law, because some day the people in control of the Legislature may be people with whom you wildly disagree, and you won't want a law on the books that says its okay for them to legally require you to perform specified speech to advance their ideological agenda, either.
________________________________________________
1 Measuring gestational age is difficult due to the differences in whether the count is taken from the first day after the last menstrual cycle or from actual implantation of the fertilized egg: "Abortion statistics are flawed by the lack of consistency in reporting gestational age. Several methods are generally used, and the number of abortions occurring before 12 weeks changes considerably depending upon the method used to determine gestational age. Pregnancy can be measured from the beginning of last menstruation or from fertilization, which is 14 days after the 1st day of the last menstrual period. Neither method accurately records pregnancy as determined by specialists in embryology and fetal development. Pregnancy actually begins with implantation, which begins 6-7 days after fertilization and ends 10-14 days later. Completion of fertilization and implantation occurs as much as 28 days after the 1st day of the last menstrual period. A report of an 8-week pregnancy is actually 6 weeks from fertilization and 4-5 weeks from implantation. The Centers for Disease Control and other abortion data collecting agencies use the 1st day of the last menstrual period. Statistics generally show that 50% of abortions occur before 8 weeks of gestation and 90% by 12 weeks. When gestation is considered at fertilization, 78% of abortions occur under 9 weeks, while 52% of abortions under 9 weeks are performed with data beginning at the 1st day of the last menstrual period. For abortions occurring under 12 weeks, 95% beginning at fertilization and 90% occur at the 1st day of the last menstrual period. 2/1000 vs. 5/1000 abortions occur under 20 weeks for data beginning at fertilization vs. at the onset of the last period. It is important to report abortion data accurately and to specify the method used to determine the gestational time period." From the U.S. National Library of Medicine, National Institute of Health, http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1526273.
Opponents of abortion, such as Karen Garnett of the Catholic Pro-Life Committee of the Diocese of Dallas, argue that this information is needed to educate the pregnant woman to understand the "separate uniqueness of that life before they make that decision." (attribution - the Wall Street Journal, "Perry Condemns Court Ruling on Sonogram Law," Sept. 1, 2011)
Here's the thing: the regular time at which women undergo a sonogram as part of standard prenatal care to check for correct organ development and anatomy of the fetus is at 18 - 20 weeks gestation. Prior to that, the images are unreliable. If you are fortunate enough to live in Texas and have medical insurance and have access to thorough pre-natal care where you live, you'll receive your first ultrasound around 8 weeks just to check that there is a gestational sac, that there's a heartbeat, that the embryo is favorably positioned in the uterus, that the placenta is developing. Not to examine the organs and limbs.
But approximately 90% of abortions happen before 12 weeks.1
Early in pregnancy, the sonogram is performed not with the swipe across the belly like you see on TV, but with a transvaginal probe, usually described as a "wand", because transabdominal ultrasounds don't provide a reliable image early on. This "wand" is large and long, and although one website advised the patient might feel "some pressure", the procedure is painless, it assuringly tells us.
I'm here to tell you, when the technician handling the wand is trying to get a good image of the fetus, there is a lot of forceful angling and jamming. Imagine having your tonsils examined by reaching up through your pelvis.
Receiving a sonogram prior to an abortion is standard medical procedure, to confirm the presence and location of the embryo. Receiving a transvagingal sonogram to examine and confirm the organ development of an early pregnancy (<12 weeks) is not standard medical procedure either for an abortion or for regular prenatal care. The procedure is usually performed by a technician, not a medical doctor. The anatomical information available at this early stage is sketchy at best, even for a doctor. And the physical trauma caused to the woman to attempt to obtain this information - I'll let your imagination take you there. Personally, I'm reminded of torture procedures favored by The Inquisition.
I understand the tragedy of abortion. I really do. But writing a law to require an extended, painful and humiliating procedure that is of no medical value is no way to achieve a reduction in abortions. Was there a companion law for women who choose life to also receive adequate prenatal care, including regular sonograms, for free regardless of insurance? Of course not. If you want adequate prenatal care in Texas, apparently you have to consider having an abortion.
And for those callous few who believe that a woman considering an abortion should experience the aggressive probing below as some sort of punishment for her behavior, clearly you have some other agenda at work beside protecting the sanctity of life.
I come from a decidedly pro-life, Catholic upbringing. My parents oppose abortion, but when I was pregnant with my second child at age 39, we all collectively held our breath for several weeks until we got past all of the chromosomal screens. Whether to proceed with the pregnancy if there had been evidence of a likely chromosomal abnormality was a very private decision that I shared with my family. Now, apparently, Karen Garnett, Rick Perry, and Greg Abbott (the Texas Attorney General) have pulled up chairs in the living room to weigh in with their own opinions on what decision I should make in this very private matter. Except they have the force of the law on their sides.
Fortunately, the Center for Reproductive Rights challenged the Texas law as unconstitutional in federal court and the judge (notably a George H.W. Bush appointee) agreed that the law went too far. He was okay with requiring a sonogram, but not with legally forcing specific speech between medical caregivers and their patients.
Locally, much of the response is complaining about a New York-based non-profit interfering with Texans' right to govern themselves as they please. The same arguments were made by southern states opposed to civil rights activists invading their borders to support desegregation. Like it or not folks, the Constitution is a bright-line federal law that the states don't get to cross. Requiring individuals who disagree with you to perform specific acts of speech to advance your own ideological agenda is not something you get to do in America. And be glad that that's the law, because some day the people in control of the Legislature may be people with whom you wildly disagree, and you won't want a law on the books that says its okay for them to legally require you to perform specified speech to advance their ideological agenda, either.
________________________________________________
1 Measuring gestational age is difficult due to the differences in whether the count is taken from the first day after the last menstrual cycle or from actual implantation of the fertilized egg: "Abortion statistics are flawed by the lack of consistency in reporting gestational age. Several methods are generally used, and the number of abortions occurring before 12 weeks changes considerably depending upon the method used to determine gestational age. Pregnancy can be measured from the beginning of last menstruation or from fertilization, which is 14 days after the 1st day of the last menstrual period. Neither method accurately records pregnancy as determined by specialists in embryology and fetal development. Pregnancy actually begins with implantation, which begins 6-7 days after fertilization and ends 10-14 days later. Completion of fertilization and implantation occurs as much as 28 days after the 1st day of the last menstrual period. A report of an 8-week pregnancy is actually 6 weeks from fertilization and 4-5 weeks from implantation. The Centers for Disease Control and other abortion data collecting agencies use the 1st day of the last menstrual period. Statistics generally show that 50% of abortions occur before 8 weeks of gestation and 90% by 12 weeks. When gestation is considered at fertilization, 78% of abortions occur under 9 weeks, while 52% of abortions under 9 weeks are performed with data beginning at the 1st day of the last menstrual period. For abortions occurring under 12 weeks, 95% beginning at fertilization and 90% occur at the 1st day of the last menstrual period. 2/1000 vs. 5/1000 abortions occur under 20 weeks for data beginning at fertilization vs. at the onset of the last period. It is important to report abortion data accurately and to specify the method used to determine the gestational time period." From the U.S. National Library of Medicine, National Institute of Health, http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1526273.
8.17.2011
Drawing the Line
Tonight I was trying to get the kids to bed a little early because the boy child had us up at 5:30 this morning with an upset stomach and ended up staying home from school. He threw up once around noon, then felt much better. But still, a little extra rest seemed a good idea. So I got baths done fast, he was helpful as far as getting himself dried off, changed into pajamas, and teeth brushed. He's 6.5, he's coming along with the self-care. Yay, boy child! I read them The Velvetten Rabbit, then told him to be in his bed with his head on his pillow by the time I was done tucking in his little sister. This is our routine. He knows he has about a minute.
I got to his room and he was out of bed nuzzling the dog instead. Okay, I said, get into bed. But I want a hug and a kiss, he said. You weren't in bed like you were supposed to be, said I.
After which followed the most god-awful fit he's thrown in a long, long time. He screamed that it wasn't fair, yelled at me trying to negotiate, that it was just this one time. He even offered to pay me to give him his hug and kiss goodnight. That really floored me. I told him it wasn't fair for him to expect to get what he wants when he doesn't do his part and do what he's supposed to. I told him that I loved him very much, and because I loved him I wanted him to learn that his choices had consequences (something we're working on). I walked away to do the dishes while the crying and arguing continued. After ten minutes of loud carrying on I yelled from the kitchen that was ENOUGH. He had really worked himself up into a lather. At one point I was concerned he was going to throw up again and had to take him to the toilet in case. I had to tell him to breathe, to settle himself down. It was awful.
Part of me is observing, saying "Egads, woman, are you really taking a stand over this?" And then the other part of me is saying, he chose to do something other than what he was supposed to do, and there's a consequence. And better he learn that now, over the relatively small matter of getting his hug and kiss at bedtime, than later over the larger matter of, say, getting into the car of a friend who's been drinking.
But CHEESE AND SPRINKLES what a FIT! He hasn't had one of those in a very, very long time. It's been a couple of hours now, and I've mostly recovered, but it was bad. When he was finally calm and settled, I did walk in and asked him what he learned tonight, and he gave all the right answers, including about how wrong throwing that kind of a fit was (the epic fit lost him a favorite video game for a week). Then I gave him a brief hug and kiss and told him to go to bed. I hope that wasn't wrong. It felt like it would be okay then. I just couldn't do it while the fit was raging and inadvertently reward his out of control reaction.
I don't know if I'm drawing the line in the right place at the right time for the right "size" infraction. I picture the boy child twenty years from now in a support group for survivors of childhood trauma saying, my mom didn't give me a hug and a kiss at night if I wasn't in bed with my head on the pillow. Then I think, if that's the worst he could come up with at a meeting like that, then we're doing okay.
Deep breath. This pareting thing is so hard. It kicks my ass every day and then serves it back to me with a sassy gleam in its eye, reminding me how little I know, how inadequate I am for this job, that I volunteered for this, that I will keep showing up every moment no matter what because I love those kids more than heaven, more than my body can contain, more than I can hold without cracking sometimes. And because I never understood how my parents loved me until I became a parent, I also know that they won't understand how much they are loved either, until they step onto this path themselves one day.
I got to his room and he was out of bed nuzzling the dog instead. Okay, I said, get into bed. But I want a hug and a kiss, he said. You weren't in bed like you were supposed to be, said I.
After which followed the most god-awful fit he's thrown in a long, long time. He screamed that it wasn't fair, yelled at me trying to negotiate, that it was just this one time. He even offered to pay me to give him his hug and kiss goodnight. That really floored me. I told him it wasn't fair for him to expect to get what he wants when he doesn't do his part and do what he's supposed to. I told him that I loved him very much, and because I loved him I wanted him to learn that his choices had consequences (something we're working on). I walked away to do the dishes while the crying and arguing continued. After ten minutes of loud carrying on I yelled from the kitchen that was ENOUGH. He had really worked himself up into a lather. At one point I was concerned he was going to throw up again and had to take him to the toilet in case. I had to tell him to breathe, to settle himself down. It was awful.
Part of me is observing, saying "Egads, woman, are you really taking a stand over this?" And then the other part of me is saying, he chose to do something other than what he was supposed to do, and there's a consequence. And better he learn that now, over the relatively small matter of getting his hug and kiss at bedtime, than later over the larger matter of, say, getting into the car of a friend who's been drinking.
But CHEESE AND SPRINKLES what a FIT! He hasn't had one of those in a very, very long time. It's been a couple of hours now, and I've mostly recovered, but it was bad. When he was finally calm and settled, I did walk in and asked him what he learned tonight, and he gave all the right answers, including about how wrong throwing that kind of a fit was (the epic fit lost him a favorite video game for a week). Then I gave him a brief hug and kiss and told him to go to bed. I hope that wasn't wrong. It felt like it would be okay then. I just couldn't do it while the fit was raging and inadvertently reward his out of control reaction.
I don't know if I'm drawing the line in the right place at the right time for the right "size" infraction. I picture the boy child twenty years from now in a support group for survivors of childhood trauma saying, my mom didn't give me a hug and a kiss at night if I wasn't in bed with my head on the pillow. Then I think, if that's the worst he could come up with at a meeting like that, then we're doing okay.
Deep breath. This pareting thing is so hard. It kicks my ass every day and then serves it back to me with a sassy gleam in its eye, reminding me how little I know, how inadequate I am for this job, that I volunteered for this, that I will keep showing up every moment no matter what because I love those kids more than heaven, more than my body can contain, more than I can hold without cracking sometimes. And because I never understood how my parents loved me until I became a parent, I also know that they won't understand how much they are loved either, until they step onto this path themselves one day.
7.14.2011
Goodbye, Garden
We are experiencing the worst drought in recorded history. It's official.
I've stopped watering anything except for the small flat of strawberries, which gets one gallon each day. The tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, okra, cantaloupe, beans, leeks, peppers - they were just hanging on in the heat, working too hard to stay alive to produce any fruit. Even the soaker hose did nothing for them. I let them go.
It's strange that our fallow season is the summer, when other places on our side of the equator are busy with full harvests, canning and freezing in full swing. In august I'll start the seeds for the fall garden, then set them out in mid-september and pray the young plants hold on through the remaining heat until the first cool relief arrives near the end of the month.
I've only been gardening for a few years. I'm a newbie. I know so little, and the Austin climate is unpredictable and frequently harsh. One memorable garden was innundated in June with too much rain and never recovered. I have fantasies of someday raising chickens and goats, and hunting for deer. I miss living off the land, even though I never have. It feels like coming home to get back into relationship with the earth and the animals I share it with.
I'm fortunate to have a few mature pecan trees on my land, and my neighbor has a couple of fig trees that, in less drought-stricken times, kindly drop a bounty of fruit on my side of the fence. Is it possible to be a homesteader in modern times? Can I learn to knit without gaping holes and get used to the crispy feel of laundry hand-washed and dried on the line? And how can I rationalize the time taken to live simply when I have a hard-won legal career that now pays a handsome hourly rate? It's difficult and sometimes just funny, walking between both worlds simultaneously, and they both provide needed and important sustenance.
I was reading a friend's blog describing her family's ongoing adventures in learning the difference between "want" and "need". They have taken the journey to heart, giving away their belongings and setting out on the open road, currently farming and homesteading in Kit Carson National Forest in New Mexico. Part of me feels like I have to make a radical change like that to be able to live my values. Then part of me says that wherever I go, I take me with me, and I might as well learn to live my values where I am.
Drought does this, leads one to ponder what's important as everything around you turns brown, struggles, succumbs. It is a time to go without. A time to remember to be grateful for what we have. A time to surrender.
I've stopped watering anything except for the small flat of strawberries, which gets one gallon each day. The tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, okra, cantaloupe, beans, leeks, peppers - they were just hanging on in the heat, working too hard to stay alive to produce any fruit. Even the soaker hose did nothing for them. I let them go.
It's strange that our fallow season is the summer, when other places on our side of the equator are busy with full harvests, canning and freezing in full swing. In august I'll start the seeds for the fall garden, then set them out in mid-september and pray the young plants hold on through the remaining heat until the first cool relief arrives near the end of the month.
I've only been gardening for a few years. I'm a newbie. I know so little, and the Austin climate is unpredictable and frequently harsh. One memorable garden was innundated in June with too much rain and never recovered. I have fantasies of someday raising chickens and goats, and hunting for deer. I miss living off the land, even though I never have. It feels like coming home to get back into relationship with the earth and the animals I share it with.
I'm fortunate to have a few mature pecan trees on my land, and my neighbor has a couple of fig trees that, in less drought-stricken times, kindly drop a bounty of fruit on my side of the fence. Is it possible to be a homesteader in modern times? Can I learn to knit without gaping holes and get used to the crispy feel of laundry hand-washed and dried on the line? And how can I rationalize the time taken to live simply when I have a hard-won legal career that now pays a handsome hourly rate? It's difficult and sometimes just funny, walking between both worlds simultaneously, and they both provide needed and important sustenance.
I was reading a friend's blog describing her family's ongoing adventures in learning the difference between "want" and "need". They have taken the journey to heart, giving away their belongings and setting out on the open road, currently farming and homesteading in Kit Carson National Forest in New Mexico. Part of me feels like I have to make a radical change like that to be able to live my values. Then part of me says that wherever I go, I take me with me, and I might as well learn to live my values where I am.
Drought does this, leads one to ponder what's important as everything around you turns brown, struggles, succumbs. It is a time to go without. A time to remember to be grateful for what we have. A time to surrender.
6.25.2011
Everything at Once
I have several blogs, but this is the least censored, because very few people who know me know about this blog. This is the blog I write for me, for my own personal journal. It isn't the family record, it isn't for a specific purpose, it's just the place where I can sort out my head, or try to, among a few trusted friends and a handful of strangers who have been consistently kind in their responses.
I am feeling so many things at once. And many of them don't go together. Many of them, if you put them side by side, would be almost eerie.
Very recently I want to try to understand DH's suicide better. I know at the outset that this will be a futile undertaking, but the process of arriving at the futility of understanding is still calling, beckoning like a siren. So I have bought some books, and I will read them. I also want to understand what's going on in my own head better. I am all at once deeply grieving his loss and simultaneously experiencing the most miraculous blooming of new love in my and the kids' lives. It's like having two chapters of a book blended together and trying to still make sense of the different story threads, trying to still allow them both the space to breathe, to develop, to simultaneously both have my full attention.
I'm not sure this is possible. In fact, I'm pretty sure it isn't.
I realized today that my life is undeniably easier, more joyful, more stable, now than it was two years ago. And I feel simultaneously grateful and guilty for that. I'm angry at him. I miss him. I wish I could have somehow known what he was planning. I wish I could have had the chance to try to explain to him that I still loved him, but couldn't be married to him. That I thought he was a great dad. That the kids loved him dearly. That he was valuable to everyone in the world who knew him. That, contrary to what his friends assumed or told him, I didn't hate him. I didn't want him to hurt. I just needed to get free again. It was too lonely, too sad, too unkind. Please, just let me be. Please....
I feel like I need couples counseling for myself and my dead, estranged husband.
Today the four of us (me, kids, new SO) went to the Half-Priced Books store so that I could look for books on suicide. Strangely, there were none. But while I searched, SO kept the kids occupied. For almost 45 minutes. They're 3 and 6 mind you. This was a feat of extraordinary commitment and creativity. And he protected my space and time to look for books for as long as I wanted. It was astonishing. I heard him and the kids wandering nearby at one point, and my son said he wanted to come find me. No, SO said, she's having some time to herself right now. You know how sometimes you want to be by yourself? Well that's what she needs right now. Let's go look over here...
It was amazing. There I was, looking for books to help me cope with my nearly ex-husband's suicide, while my current partner protected my time and gently managed the kids to give me that opportunity.
This is nothing short of miraculous. I told him how amazing and awesome he was. He shrugged. You needed the time. We came home and had a light dinner, and he cooked something beautiful and healthy and delicious for himself. I just wanted a half a grapefruit but ended up nibbling off of his plate. It's been a lovely evening, but still framed by the complicated emotions and thoughts that come with surviving the suicide of a loved one. At this moment I'm listening to him and my son talking and laughing in my son's bedroom as he tucks him in for bed.
Miraculous.
I have though of slowing things down with new SO, but I think I can manage at the pace we're proceeding, and the kids seem to need him. If I could create a pocket in time that I could slip into for about a year to try to process everything, I would. But the kids are growing and getting older and their questions and wants and ponderings are growing up, too. I can't slow this down. Life goes at the pace it goes at. I'll flow along with it best I can.
I am feeling so many things at once. And many of them don't go together. Many of them, if you put them side by side, would be almost eerie.
Very recently I want to try to understand DH's suicide better. I know at the outset that this will be a futile undertaking, but the process of arriving at the futility of understanding is still calling, beckoning like a siren. So I have bought some books, and I will read them. I also want to understand what's going on in my own head better. I am all at once deeply grieving his loss and simultaneously experiencing the most miraculous blooming of new love in my and the kids' lives. It's like having two chapters of a book blended together and trying to still make sense of the different story threads, trying to still allow them both the space to breathe, to develop, to simultaneously both have my full attention.
I'm not sure this is possible. In fact, I'm pretty sure it isn't.
I realized today that my life is undeniably easier, more joyful, more stable, now than it was two years ago. And I feel simultaneously grateful and guilty for that. I'm angry at him. I miss him. I wish I could have somehow known what he was planning. I wish I could have had the chance to try to explain to him that I still loved him, but couldn't be married to him. That I thought he was a great dad. That the kids loved him dearly. That he was valuable to everyone in the world who knew him. That, contrary to what his friends assumed or told him, I didn't hate him. I didn't want him to hurt. I just needed to get free again. It was too lonely, too sad, too unkind. Please, just let me be. Please....
I feel like I need couples counseling for myself and my dead, estranged husband.
Today the four of us (me, kids, new SO) went to the Half-Priced Books store so that I could look for books on suicide. Strangely, there were none. But while I searched, SO kept the kids occupied. For almost 45 minutes. They're 3 and 6 mind you. This was a feat of extraordinary commitment and creativity. And he protected my space and time to look for books for as long as I wanted. It was astonishing. I heard him and the kids wandering nearby at one point, and my son said he wanted to come find me. No, SO said, she's having some time to herself right now. You know how sometimes you want to be by yourself? Well that's what she needs right now. Let's go look over here...
It was amazing. There I was, looking for books to help me cope with my nearly ex-husband's suicide, while my current partner protected my time and gently managed the kids to give me that opportunity.
This is nothing short of miraculous. I told him how amazing and awesome he was. He shrugged. You needed the time. We came home and had a light dinner, and he cooked something beautiful and healthy and delicious for himself. I just wanted a half a grapefruit but ended up nibbling off of his plate. It's been a lovely evening, but still framed by the complicated emotions and thoughts that come with surviving the suicide of a loved one. At this moment I'm listening to him and my son talking and laughing in my son's bedroom as he tucks him in for bed.
Miraculous.
I have though of slowing things down with new SO, but I think I can manage at the pace we're proceeding, and the kids seem to need him. If I could create a pocket in time that I could slip into for about a year to try to process everything, I would. But the kids are growing and getting older and their questions and wants and ponderings are growing up, too. I can't slow this down. Life goes at the pace it goes at. I'll flow along with it best I can.
6.06.2011
My Dinner With Buddha
Tonight at dinner the cub told me, "You're amazing, mommy, just the way you are." Took my breath away, humbled me and amazed me. I told him thank you. A few minutes later he said, "You'll be amazing forever, mommy. Even when you're angry."
That one went straight to my heart. These were powerful words, coming from my son, with whom I'd been short and impatient that morning due to a terrible lack of sleep and feeling overwhelmed by my too successful too fast law practice. In a moment I saw myself with forgiveness, as a human, flawed, imperfect, and yet not a bad person.
I told him that was a very compassionate thing to say. He asked me what "compassionate" meant, and I told him it meant full of loving and kindness. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
I had been feeling low for being quick to anger this morning, and my kid just reminded me of all the things that I tell them - it's okay to be angry, everyone gets mad, getting mad doesn't make you a bad person - it's how you behave when you're mad that matters. It's important to feel all your feelings, even the difficult ones.
I thanked him again and told him I'd been feeling pretty bad for how I'd been angry that morning, and for reminding me that everyone gets angry and getting angry is okay. And I told him that when I became angry, it was my problem, not his. He always likes that part.
No one deserves love like this. But we get it anyway. For me, that's the miracle of life in a nutshell. We didn't earn the right to breathe, to enjoy the pleasure of a thinking and reasoning mind, to see colors, to hear music, to feel a bracing cold breeze, to feel tree bark under our fingertips, to hear our kids tell us they love us. But we may get these things anyway.
Sunday I was inspired by an interview with Krishna Das to have a conversation with Griffin about God dwelling within him as him, and within everyone as that person.
I don't know where this kid is headed, but I'm so blessed to get to be beside him for some of it.
That one went straight to my heart. These were powerful words, coming from my son, with whom I'd been short and impatient that morning due to a terrible lack of sleep and feeling overwhelmed by my too successful too fast law practice. In a moment I saw myself with forgiveness, as a human, flawed, imperfect, and yet not a bad person.
I told him that was a very compassionate thing to say. He asked me what "compassionate" meant, and I told him it meant full of loving and kindness. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
I had been feeling low for being quick to anger this morning, and my kid just reminded me of all the things that I tell them - it's okay to be angry, everyone gets mad, getting mad doesn't make you a bad person - it's how you behave when you're mad that matters. It's important to feel all your feelings, even the difficult ones.
I thanked him again and told him I'd been feeling pretty bad for how I'd been angry that morning, and for reminding me that everyone gets angry and getting angry is okay. And I told him that when I became angry, it was my problem, not his. He always likes that part.
No one deserves love like this. But we get it anyway. For me, that's the miracle of life in a nutshell. We didn't earn the right to breathe, to enjoy the pleasure of a thinking and reasoning mind, to see colors, to hear music, to feel a bracing cold breeze, to feel tree bark under our fingertips, to hear our kids tell us they love us. But we may get these things anyway.
Sunday I was inspired by an interview with Krishna Das to have a conversation with Griffin about God dwelling within him as him, and within everyone as that person.
I don't know where this kid is headed, but I'm so blessed to get to be beside him for some of it.
5.04.2011
Happy Mother's Day from the Texas Lege
Who represents poor women in Texas? Not the Texas Lege. Perhaps the most poignant quote comes from Rep. Garnet Coleman, D-Houston: "Poor women should not be a political football when it comes to their healthcare. But this is where a majority does rule. And I believe that it's more important to have the program than not."
In a nutshell, the Medicaid program through which 120,000 Texas women receive critical cancer and disease screening (pap smears for cervical cancer, for example) and contraceptive care (to prevent unwanted pregnancies in the first place) will be scrapped unless the bill to renew the program includes a ban on participation in the funds by Planned Parenthood. Problem is, Planned Parenthood is the single largest provider of services under the program, providing screening and contraception to 40,000 responsible, low-income women across the State.
Forget that Planned Parenthood is prohibited from using the funds to provide (totally legal) abortion services. Forget that Planned Parenthood has multiple urban and rural locations that provide a full range of preventative healthcare for women that is women-run and operated. Forget that the vast majority of women who have benefited from the services of Planned Parenthood (including yours truly) benefited from services ranging from diagnosis and treatment of yeast infections to annual exams to prescription for contraceptive medications (and many thanks to my health insurance for not covering that cost).
Women's healthcare is screwed. Truly. And it keeps getting further screwed by the nutjobs who will threaten to take down broad programs of preventative care (including preventing unwanted pregnancies! Are we not on the same side on that issue? REALLY?) just to spite Planned Parenthood, for having the temerity to continue to also offer abortions - with other funds, and among a SLEW of other critical health services.
You know, my family had this assumption, when I was pregnant with my kids late in life, that if a serious chromosomal issue arose, I would have considered the option to terminate the pregnancy. We all prayed that I would not be faced with such a difficult decision, and I kept them informed of test and screening appointments and called them as soon as the results were received, explaining what they meant, what the tests measured, what they were looking for. My parents are actively pro-life. But they don't connect the dots. They don't appreciate that this very personal decision that I might have been faced with for myself and my family would have been moot.
Calling abortion opponents "pro-life" is a misnomer. I have to agree with the criticism that they are really pro-birth. If the pro-life organizations put as much into parenting classes, job training, paid parental leave, publicly supported and safe 24-hr childcare, abuse and domestic violence prevention, foster programs, and all of women's healthcare - rather than being a sole force to make abortion as difficult, humiliating, expensive and dangerous as possible at the cost of critical healthcare for women - they might get my attention.
I wonder how many of them have actually walked into a Planned Parenthood clinic, just to see all of the health information available, hear how the women who go there are treated with dignity and respect, to see the faces of their sisters and mothers and daughters who are so fortunate to have a medical resource available dedicated especially to their health.
But I look at what they are trying to do my state, and to my sisters struggling to take care of themselves, and it all just seems like misogyny. They just can't stop punishing Eve for offering Adam the apple.
In a nutshell, the Medicaid program through which 120,000 Texas women receive critical cancer and disease screening (pap smears for cervical cancer, for example) and contraceptive care (to prevent unwanted pregnancies in the first place) will be scrapped unless the bill to renew the program includes a ban on participation in the funds by Planned Parenthood. Problem is, Planned Parenthood is the single largest provider of services under the program, providing screening and contraception to 40,000 responsible, low-income women across the State.
Forget that Planned Parenthood is prohibited from using the funds to provide (totally legal) abortion services. Forget that Planned Parenthood has multiple urban and rural locations that provide a full range of preventative healthcare for women that is women-run and operated. Forget that the vast majority of women who have benefited from the services of Planned Parenthood (including yours truly) benefited from services ranging from diagnosis and treatment of yeast infections to annual exams to prescription for contraceptive medications (and many thanks to my health insurance for not covering that cost).
Women's healthcare is screwed. Truly. And it keeps getting further screwed by the nutjobs who will threaten to take down broad programs of preventative care (including preventing unwanted pregnancies! Are we not on the same side on that issue? REALLY?) just to spite Planned Parenthood, for having the temerity to continue to also offer abortions - with other funds, and among a SLEW of other critical health services.
You know, my family had this assumption, when I was pregnant with my kids late in life, that if a serious chromosomal issue arose, I would have considered the option to terminate the pregnancy. We all prayed that I would not be faced with such a difficult decision, and I kept them informed of test and screening appointments and called them as soon as the results were received, explaining what they meant, what the tests measured, what they were looking for. My parents are actively pro-life. But they don't connect the dots. They don't appreciate that this very personal decision that I might have been faced with for myself and my family would have been moot.
Calling abortion opponents "pro-life" is a misnomer. I have to agree with the criticism that they are really pro-birth. If the pro-life organizations put as much into parenting classes, job training, paid parental leave, publicly supported and safe 24-hr childcare, abuse and domestic violence prevention, foster programs, and all of women's healthcare - rather than being a sole force to make abortion as difficult, humiliating, expensive and dangerous as possible at the cost of critical healthcare for women - they might get my attention.
I wonder how many of them have actually walked into a Planned Parenthood clinic, just to see all of the health information available, hear how the women who go there are treated with dignity and respect, to see the faces of their sisters and mothers and daughters who are so fortunate to have a medical resource available dedicated especially to their health.
But I look at what they are trying to do my state, and to my sisters struggling to take care of themselves, and it all just seems like misogyny. They just can't stop punishing Eve for offering Adam the apple.
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