Category: self-discovery

marital blissishness, parenting, self-discovery

Truthfully Speaking

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Are you technically having an argument with your husband if you are simply stating your case and it happens to be true? I was upset with Mad Dog this morning (I was going to say mad but since the word mad is part of his nickname; I felt it canceled out the meaning). He has been working a lot (no surprise) and I am wishing it could be different (no surprise). I was so steamin’ angry that I called him while he was on his way to work. My point was to give him a laundry list of reasons of why I was so upset. I’m sure he was super excited to take my phone call. To his credit, he did not respond with a counter-attack. Either he is an incredibly intelligent man (if you know him, you know this to be true) or he thought my rant was so off-base, he couldn’t dignify it with a response. I’m hoping for the former. He better hope it’s the former, too. That’s not a threat. Again, how could it be? It’s simply a statement that happens to be true.

My Mom used to say that if you always agree with your spouse then one of you isn’t necessary. Well apparently Mad Dog and I are both highly essential to this union.

Relationships are complicated. Look at my boys. One minute they are wrestling each other within an inch of their lives, the next they are side by side calmly watching a show. There is no pattern or way to figure which way they are going to be each day. Frick and Frack

Maybe I would be bored to tears if they were quiet, calm and predictable (that made me laugh out loud as I tried to imagine them as that – never, gonna happen!). Maybe I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if a simple outing to Wal-Mart with them was just that. Simple.

Simple is nice when making a recipe I suppose. Simple can bring a sense of comfort and practiced rhythm to the world. My world is a little different. It is full of unknowns, outlandish behavior and disagreements. It has spice and surprise. I’m curious to see what happens next especially for T.Puzzle and Full Speed. Aren’t you?

eyesight, good grief, loss of parent, mommyhood, self-discovery

Progress

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Full Speed’s eye testing today was phenomenal. It is the best I have ever seen him do. He was rattling off tiny letters like he had been doing it his whole life (which he has not). I finally broke down a little in the exam room. It still hasn’t totally connected in my heart that his vision has improved significantly. I keep waiting for someone to jump out and say that it’s a joke and that he still is considered legally blind.

There are no words. There are no words that a mother can say to properly describe the overwhelming desire for her children to have clear vision. My psyche cannot process that this day of clear sight is finally here. Both my boys are on track for excellent vision. Unbelievable.

Today even T.Puzzle wowed at his regular check-up. We had scheduled it months before Full Speed had his surgery so we piggy-backed Full Speed’s post-op with this  appointment. T.Puzzle was identifying letters like a firecracker. The nurse of course was impressed that a two year old knew his letters so well (thank you pre-school and Sesame Street!) and fawned over him when he said the letter ‘F’ as ‘efp’ (it was pretty adorable).

It felt like I was in another exam room with different children (and thank you to my Mother-in-law who accompanied me and supported us today). This was the first time the eye tests were a breeze for both of them (as we have finally pinpointed T.Puzzle’s prescription and what a long road that was!). I felt like I imagine a majority of the population feels when they take their kids in for check-ups and the doctor has them read the simple eye-chart. I felt like of course they can identify a tiny letter ‘B’ from across the room. That’s just what kids do. And now, it’s what MY kids do. I’m still shaking my head in disbelief.

The progress for my boys is remarkable. I feel like I also made some progress on my own path towards healing. Today I purposefully chose to wear a necklace that my Mom had given me a couple years ago. It is flowery and blue which happen to be two of my favorite artistic components of expression. I did not feel sad as I placed it around my throat and hooked the clasp shut. I felt empowered and loved. She had wanted good vision for my boys as badly as I do. I embraced what I felt to be her presence and I smiled. I am doubly thankful that now my boys will be able to see their Mommy’s smile clearly.

My prayer is one of thanks today. Some tears have fallen, but they have been tears of gratitude and deeply felt love. Whether it was seen, felt or heard, love was all around us.

eyesight, health, mommyhood, parenting, self-discovery

Eye Am Thankful

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So far the result of Full Speed’s surgery has been spectacular. It doesn’t seem real. I am having trouble imagining the possibility of much improved vision.

baby in glasses
Full Speed was first diagnosed with extreme myopia (which means he was off-the-charts nearsighted) when he was 20 months old. The subsequent journey and various doctor’s appointments from geneticists to surgeons has been a test of courage and faith. I have always held out hope in the back of my mind that his vision would be good (excellent even). I have prayed endlessly that he would have 20/20 vision. I have cried and then I have prayed some more. Eventually, I started to take my cues from Full Speed. He began eye-testing with letters when he was two years old. He handled every appointment (well, there were some deep in the heart of the terrible twos that I think I’ve blocked from memory) the best he could. As he matured, he came to respect doctors and followed their directions with ease. He is so comfortable in hospital/doctor office settings now it’s almost like doing anything else we might do during our day.

I also have learned to evaluate Full Speed’s condition based on his functioning. His functioning is awesome. He has mastered all his physical milestones and then some and is right on track intellectually. I began to realize that extreme myopia later diagnosed as ectopia lentis et pupillae with lens subluxation (dislocated lenses) looks pretty amazing if you ask me.

yellow belt kick

I had this strange moment when Full Speed was three years old and he was testing for his first Tae Kwon Do belt. As I sat in the testing room with family and friends I had this sort of out of body experience. I saw clearly for the first time that if all Full Speed was ever allowed was minimal vision, he was going to kick life in the ass and be a huge success. I learned a new prayer that day. The prayer was a thank you for the vision provided to my son for it is exactly what he needs to be who he is. That was the day I started to learn acceptance. I accepted his coke-bottle lenses whole heartedly (I mean come on, they are freakin’ adorable!). I accepted that regular eye check-ups (sometimes done under anesthesia) and doctor’s visits were a part of our lives. I accepted that while some of his eye care may be a challenge (patching his left eye on a daily basis), it’s just what we do.

Flash forward and here we are with another major eye surgery under our belts and on the cusp of much improved vision. I know whatever happens Full Speed will have exactly the amount of vision he needs to be whoever he will be (which is incredible in my slightly biased opinion). I will certainly be thankful if that is anywhere near 20/20 vision.

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good grief, loss of parent, self-discovery

The Cheese Stick and a Hug

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I have been struggling lately. I am sad more days than not. It’s been about six months since my mother’s death and I feel I am deep in the sadness part of my grief process. I have no more denial to protect me. I must move forward through this raw, biting pain that sits on my chest and weighs my movements as if I am submerged in water.

Today has been particularly rough. No rhyme, no reason. I have this overwhelming sadness that feels so powerful that it’s like carrying around another full-grown, helpless person.

I am home today with T.Puzzle. This is the first day in a long while that I didn’t have a million and one things to do. I have time to be still. I hate it. I can’t run anymore. I have to face the fact that my Mom is never coming back. She is gone forever. End of story.

I have to admit (and not proudly), T.Puzzle is watching a lot more television than I normally allow. I don’t have it in me to be ‘Mommy’ today. At least it’s stuff like Sesame Street so it will hopefully reinforce his letter recognition and won’t be a total wash.

He can tell I feel off today. He’s not fighting me at every corner. He’s been more gentle and loving which I appreciate. It’s amazing the intuitive nature that children possess. I hope he always keeps that.

I was sitting on the couch staring into nothingness and feeling downright sorry for myself. T.Puzzle came over and climbed on my lap. It’s surreal that feeling you get when you are holding one of your children. You sort of lose where you begin and they end. It’s like the physical boundaries of the world melt away and disappear into the love you have for one another. It felt good. I liked the weight of his body pressing into the sadness that sat deep in my gut. I didn’t hold him for too long. I understand that my grief is ultimately a solitary process. It’s not up to a child to fix an adult’s broken heart. I have to sit with it and come to terms with it all by myself.

I lifted him up and gave him a snack, a cheese stick of all things. He ate it with hearty enthusiasm. I went back and found my position on the couch and began my pity party all over again.p9173290

T.Puzzle finished his cheese stick, came over to me and climbed right back up on my lap. Who am I to fight the wisdom of my own child? Maybe he knows that I need him more than he needs me in this moment. Sometimes Mommies need band-aids for our hurts. Sometimes all we really need is a hug.

good grief, self-discovery

My (almost) Birthday Blues

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p4182669The days leading up to my 35th birthday have been incredibly sad. This is the saddest I have ever felt as a birthday has approached. Your birthday is the one day that links you inexorably to your Mom. In most ways that is a beautiful thing. If your Mom is no longer alive, it kind of makes it difficult to achieve a celebratory mood.

I keep imagining my Mom, thirty-five years ago being fully expectant with me (I was overdue), feeling as big as a house, harboring anxiety over my impending birth and the stirrings of unconditional love for a mysterious being she hadn’t even met. My Mom was a woman of few words. I know only the basic details of my birth day. I was slightly over nine pounds, my Mom was overwhelmed with relief that I was healthy (she had me at thirty-three which categorized her as an older, at-risk Mom in that day and age), that I was born on a Friday the thirteenth (which my Mom claimed to have been one of her luckiest Fridays ever) and I was a good baby right from the start (oh, why oh why couldn’t my boys have been like that in the newborn phase?).

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I don’t know much about what she was feeling. I think that now that I’ve given birth twice, I have a better perspective. That’s what I can’t get out of my head. I can’t escape the images of my Mom being young and beautiful, eagerly waiting for my arrival. I feel what she felt. I feel the hope and the fear of it all. The feelings of a power greater than yourself as you prepare to give life to another person and the feelings of absolute helplessness because you have no control over the process or the outcome. It is at once amazing and terrifying.

I was with my Mom on that day. She held me and loved me and promised to take care of me. On that day there was no inkling that we would only have thirty-four years and how our time together would end. There was only relief and joy.

I know that a year from now, the grief I am feeling surrounding my birthday won’t feel as raw as it does right now. I am trying to label the sadness I feel as simply love that is blurred at the edges. The painful connection I feel to what used to be is a reminder that I had something special in the first place. Maybe the more sadness you feel when you lose someone means the more blessed you were by the impact they had on your life. If this is true, then I am blessed a million times over. For that, I am truly grateful, deep sadness and all.

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