Monday, August 1, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Happy Mother's Day
To you who have aching arms and hearts just waiting to be blessed with little scampering feet...
To you who have said goodbye way too soon to tiny angels and grieve this day...
To you who have mother's in heaven but none on earth...
To you who have given your child to another to raise because of your deep love...
I miss you, mom.
Monday, February 14, 2011
I. Can't. Take. It. Anymore.
I thought we had done really well last month. We did things at the right times. I even felt like I could tell when I was ovulating, which I have never been able to do before.
Nope. Damn period came yesterday.
And then today a good friend told us she's having twins. And showed us the video where they were kicking. I'm pretty sure my ovaries did a flip.
Mom is wasting away. Please, God, please. I just want to tell her she's going to be a grandma. Am I going to have to resort to lying to my dying mother???
I thought we had done really well last month. We did things at the right times. I even felt like I could tell when I was ovulating, which I have never been able to do before.
Nope. Damn period came yesterday.
And then today a good friend told us she's having twins. And showed us the video where they were kicking. I'm pretty sure my ovaries did a flip.
Mom is wasting away. Please, God, please. I just want to tell her she's going to be a grandma. Am I going to have to resort to lying to my dying mother???
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Who knew I would be so....intuitive?
Two weeks ago, I wrote about how my mom wouldn't get to meet her grandkids. And this week, mom let us know that she is stopping treatments. The doctor has given her around 2-4 months.
A couple of months ago, mom started an experimental, just-approved-by-the-FDA type of treatment. Mom was informed that this was basically the last type of treatment that they had for her to do. Well, it wasn't working, and was in fact shutting down her liver functions, as well as other horrible side-effects.
When mom was diagnosed with leukemia in January, my aunt asked her if she would get to a point when she would decide that enough was enough. If she would know when it was time to end treatment. At that point, she knew that it wasn't time. However, now she decided that it is time.
Two weeks ago, I wrote about how my mom wouldn't get to meet her grandkids. And this week, mom let us know that she is stopping treatments. The doctor has given her around 2-4 months.
A couple of months ago, mom started an experimental, just-approved-by-the-FDA type of treatment. Mom was informed that this was basically the last type of treatment that they had for her to do. Well, it wasn't working, and was in fact shutting down her liver functions, as well as other horrible side-effects.
When mom was diagnosed with leukemia in January, my aunt asked her if she would get to a point when she would decide that enough was enough. If she would know when it was time to end treatment. At that point, she knew that it wasn't time. However, now she decided that it is time.
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Sad Times
Mom was diagnosed with leukemia a year ago this past week. A year ago I was hearing the diagnosis that I might not see my mom past 6 months to a year, and yet she is still here. Once again, as she has for the past 21 years, she has defied the odds and survived a diagnosis of death.
But it is bittersweet. She is not the same woman she used to be. She has lost a significant amount of weight. She is in the hospital around 20 hours each week. The joy and the hope that emanated from every part of who she is has diminished. She is tired of fighting. She has battled cancer and death for over 20 years, and she is slowly losing the fight.
Even as I type it, it seems unreal. I have never known cancer to win. My mom was born a fighter. An unbending wall of strength and determination. Even as her body shuts down against her wishes, she still says she is going to fight, because "I have things to do".
I am not blind to the "thing" she has to do. She wants to be a grandma. More than she will ever admit to me, she wants to be able to hold her grandchild in her arms. She wants to sing songs like she did to Ashley and I. She wants to run her hands down the baby's face and soothe it to sleep with her sweet words. She wants to feel that unending love of a grandma that cannot be expressed unless you have been one. All of her friends are grandmas, and she wants in The Club.
And I am unable to do this for her. For whatever the reason, I have not been able to do this one thing that she wants more than anything in the world.
My entire life, I have gotten everything I have ever needed, and most of what I wanted (with the exception on the pink wallpaper that I wanted to disappear forever, and the jr. high dances I desperately wanted to attend). And the one thing that my mom wants more than anything I am unable to give her.
I was hoping, shortly after the diagnosis, that I would be able to get pregnant right away. We had been trying for a few months, and I knew that it would happen soon. That my baby would give my mom reason to fight even harder against the inevitability. But as the year has passed, my struggle to conceive has mirrored her struggle against cancer.
I see my mom's broken body, and weary spirit. I see her struggle to continue, when she has so much that she is unable to do anymore. She is starting to acknowledge that she has dreams that she may never see realized.
If I were to get pregnant next month, we would have the baby in October (I know I am not pregnant now--stupid period started 2 days ago). I spent Monday evening just spending time with my mom, and I came to realize something: she might not make it that long.
In my wildest dreams, I never anticipated the possibility of having a baby without my mom around. I know I would not be the first--I have heard many who have not had grandparents in their lives. But I never thought that would be me. I probably should not have been so naive.
I wish I could describe the torrent of emotions accurately. Devastation, sadness (which is such a weak word), grief, fear, heartache, and also anger, regret, and guilt. I know in my head that waiting was a good thing for Nick and I. I know in my head that you never have a baby for your parents or for someone else. But in my heart, I desperately wish that I were able to give my mom this gift. After all that she has given me, to be able to give her the gift of a life. I feel like it would not only be a miracle baby for us, but it would also give her a miracle gift--an extra shot in the arm of hope and determination to fight again.
This entry doesn't necessarily have a point. But I guess what I'm learning through this journey is that it doesn't always have to have a point. As my friend Erin pointed out, someday I am going to want to know exactly what I was feeling at this point in my life. My future child will want to know.
And right now, this is what I am feeling.
But it is bittersweet. She is not the same woman she used to be. She has lost a significant amount of weight. She is in the hospital around 20 hours each week. The joy and the hope that emanated from every part of who she is has diminished. She is tired of fighting. She has battled cancer and death for over 20 years, and she is slowly losing the fight.
Even as I type it, it seems unreal. I have never known cancer to win. My mom was born a fighter. An unbending wall of strength and determination. Even as her body shuts down against her wishes, she still says she is going to fight, because "I have things to do".
I am not blind to the "thing" she has to do. She wants to be a grandma. More than she will ever admit to me, she wants to be able to hold her grandchild in her arms. She wants to sing songs like she did to Ashley and I. She wants to run her hands down the baby's face and soothe it to sleep with her sweet words. She wants to feel that unending love of a grandma that cannot be expressed unless you have been one. All of her friends are grandmas, and she wants in The Club.
And I am unable to do this for her. For whatever the reason, I have not been able to do this one thing that she wants more than anything in the world.
My entire life, I have gotten everything I have ever needed, and most of what I wanted (with the exception on the pink wallpaper that I wanted to disappear forever, and the jr. high dances I desperately wanted to attend). And the one thing that my mom wants more than anything I am unable to give her.
I was hoping, shortly after the diagnosis, that I would be able to get pregnant right away. We had been trying for a few months, and I knew that it would happen soon. That my baby would give my mom reason to fight even harder against the inevitability. But as the year has passed, my struggle to conceive has mirrored her struggle against cancer.
I see my mom's broken body, and weary spirit. I see her struggle to continue, when she has so much that she is unable to do anymore. She is starting to acknowledge that she has dreams that she may never see realized.
If I were to get pregnant next month, we would have the baby in October (I know I am not pregnant now--stupid period started 2 days ago). I spent Monday evening just spending time with my mom, and I came to realize something: she might not make it that long.
In my wildest dreams, I never anticipated the possibility of having a baby without my mom around. I know I would not be the first--I have heard many who have not had grandparents in their lives. But I never thought that would be me. I probably should not have been so naive.
I wish I could describe the torrent of emotions accurately. Devastation, sadness (which is such a weak word), grief, fear, heartache, and also anger, regret, and guilt. I know in my head that waiting was a good thing for Nick and I. I know in my head that you never have a baby for your parents or for someone else. But in my heart, I desperately wish that I were able to give my mom this gift. After all that she has given me, to be able to give her the gift of a life. I feel like it would not only be a miracle baby for us, but it would also give her a miracle gift--an extra shot in the arm of hope and determination to fight again.
This entry doesn't necessarily have a point. But I guess what I'm learning through this journey is that it doesn't always have to have a point. As my friend Erin pointed out, someday I am going to want to know exactly what I was feeling at this point in my life. My future child will want to know.
And right now, this is what I am feeling.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Everyone But Me
I know I've said this before. But it's hard to watch other people have babies.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about my friends. I LOVE when my friends have babies. Seriously. Nothing fills me with more happiness.
It's the random people that really get to me. The Hyundai Sonata commercial. The iPhone 4 commercial. The girl who used to be in 7th grade at my school. The girl who used to be in my 2nd grade class (yup--an 8th grader having a baby--don't get me started). The couple from my high school who isn't supposed to have any more kids, but who is accidentally having their 4th without even trying. These are the ones that really get to me. It's like, I can handle the people I know, but the inundation from everywhere else is what really hurts. Which I know doesn't make sense. I should probably be hurt by the people close to me, but for me it seems opposite.
I have to skip past the Hyundai commercials now.
I find myself wanting to stop at Babies R'Us and just go in and look. I don't, thankfully.
I made an appointment with a new OB/GYN. We'll see how this goes.
(Here's the iPhone commercial, in case you haven't seen it. I can't find the Hyundai one)
Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about my friends. I LOVE when my friends have babies. Seriously. Nothing fills me with more happiness.
It's the random people that really get to me. The Hyundai Sonata commercial. The iPhone 4 commercial. The girl who used to be in 7th grade at my school. The girl who used to be in my 2nd grade class (yup--an 8th grader having a baby--don't get me started). The couple from my high school who isn't supposed to have any more kids, but who is accidentally having their 4th without even trying. These are the ones that really get to me. It's like, I can handle the people I know, but the inundation from everywhere else is what really hurts. Which I know doesn't make sense. I should probably be hurt by the people close to me, but for me it seems opposite.
I have to skip past the Hyundai commercials now.
I find myself wanting to stop at Babies R'Us and just go in and look. I don't, thankfully.
I made an appointment with a new OB/GYN. We'll see how this goes.
(Here's the iPhone commercial, in case you haven't seen it. I can't find the Hyundai one)
Sunday, November 21, 2010
A year.
It has been a year since the day that Nick said he'd be okay with having a baby.
And wow, what has happened in a year.
I developed a legitimate alternative to teaching for a living.
I got a job, and proceeded to kick my butt to do well at it.
I lived through leukemia with my mom...twice.
And now, things are about to change again.
See, Nick just got a new job. And this new job is based on the opposite side of the country, in LA. Which means that starting in March, Nick will move to LA. And then, when the school year is over, I will follow him.
My world is rocked again.
There are so many questions/problems that this brings up (just for baby-making), it is ridiculous.
Should we put baby-making on hold until we will be together all the time?
Do I run the risk of being pregnant while Nick isn't here? I'd be almost like a single mom!
Mom won't see me pregnant.
Mom won't be with me when I have a baby.
We won't be around ANY family or friends...who will help me through this crazy transition in life? I always assumed I'd have more help than I needed.
We're going to be making a cross-country move...is this a good time to have a baby?
Will there ever be a good time to have a baby?
It has been a year since the day that Nick said he'd be okay with having a baby.
And wow, what has happened in a year.
I developed a legitimate alternative to teaching for a living.
I got a job, and proceeded to kick my butt to do well at it.
I lived through leukemia with my mom...twice.
And now, things are about to change again.
See, Nick just got a new job. And this new job is based on the opposite side of the country, in LA. Which means that starting in March, Nick will move to LA. And then, when the school year is over, I will follow him.
My world is rocked again.
There are so many questions/problems that this brings up (just for baby-making), it is ridiculous.
Should we put baby-making on hold until we will be together all the time?
Do I run the risk of being pregnant while Nick isn't here? I'd be almost like a single mom!
Mom won't see me pregnant.
Mom won't be with me when I have a baby.
We won't be around ANY family or friends...who will help me through this crazy transition in life? I always assumed I'd have more help than I needed.
We're going to be making a cross-country move...is this a good time to have a baby?
Will there ever be a good time to have a baby?
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