Back to work...and then tragedy (Part 2)

After Dad died, Mom was doing pretty well - much better than I thought she would be. She and Dad had been married 42 years, and he had been taking care of her for a long time. She had some bad days, but overall she seemed to be ok. She did call me A LOT; every single day, usually two or three times per day. For the first few weeks, I tried to answer her calls every time, because I knew she was very lonely and missing Dad. But after a while, I just couldn't answer her calls every time. Sometimes she didn't make any sense, and would get so frustrated and just hang up. Mom has had a lot of strokes over the years, which I'm sure has affected her brain. She occasionally would call in the middle of the night, but I usually didn't hear my phone. I finally put my phone on "do not disturb" after 11pm - it was just too much, with me working and with the baby.

We went to see her every weekend, and she loved seeing us - especially the baby. I know that even though this nursing home was really nice, it's still a nursing home - and naturally, she didn't want to be there. But there were no other options, unfortunately. After a few weeks, they put her in a different room with a roommate.  Unfortunately, she and her roomie didn't get along too well; Mom can be very difficult at times, so I'm sure it was somewhat her own fault.  We think Mom had been having some mini-strokes for quite a while, so she would do and say some crazy things from time to time. She didn't walk very well, either, and would get up a lot on her own - without a walker, wheelchair or an aide - so she's fall, too. But other than some bruises and aches, she was ok.

In late September/early October, my aunt (Mom's sister) was down from MN - and we had a great time visiting with her. Mom had called me one day during that time my aunt was here and said something to the effect of "I have this terrible cough, I think I'm dying." I thought that was a bit extreme.  I told her that she probably had just caught a cold or something, as she said she felt perfectly fine. We took everything Mom said with a grain of salt. On Sunday, she must've called me at least 4 times, but I didn't hear my phone, as we were visiting with my aunt for the last time before she went back home. As we were heading home, I finally noticed the missed calls.  I called Mom back and told her that we were on our way to see her now.

The visit with Mom was short - hubby stayed with baby in the car, because we didn't want him catching Mom's cold or whatever she had. I explained this to her when I got there, and clearly she was disappointed. I promised her that he'd be there next weekend to see her, we just didn't want to risk him getting sick.

The following day, the nursing home called to let me know that Mom had fallen (again) but she was fine. If I remember correctly, Mom had tried calling me that day, but I had missed it. It was useless calling her back because she rarely answered. I knew she'd call me again. But she didn't. 

The next afternoon, I was returning from lunch with a friend when the nursing home called again. Not another fall, I thought. They were required to call me every time this happened. Nope. The nurse said that I should get there as soon as I could, that my mom was dying. Excuse me? Then she put the Hospice nurse on the line. I asked for an explanation, and she said that Mom seemed fine that morning, but then suddenly became unresponsive, but was still breathing. Her organs were shutting down, so they were giving her oxygen and Morphine to try to keep her comfortable and prevent any pain. I was in disbelief. What had happened?  I thought it was most likely another stroke.  I remembered what she had said to me about how she thought she was dying. Her older sister had said pretty much the same thing the night before she died, a few months earlier. Did they really know they were dying? 

I rushed upstairs and told my boss what was going on, and that I didn't know when I'd be back. I texted my hubby to let him know, and he called me immediately to see how I was, and if I wanted him to come up to the nursing home. I told him no, there was no sense in that. I tried calling my brother and sister, but neither one answered. I left them both messages to call me ASAP.

When I got to Mom's room, it looked like she was sleeping except that she appeared to be breathing really hard. The Hospice nurse showed up shortly after I got there and gave me a brochure that explained what typically happens to people when they are dying. I just sat next to her bed, held her cool

hand and talked to her. It's believed that your hearing is the last thing to stop working. I cried and told her that we'd be ok, that she could go and be with Daddy. I just kept rubbing her hand and crying, repeating how much I loved her and how I was so glad that she got to meet my baby. I was so scared that she'd have a seizure or something, but she didn't. 

After about two hours, Mom crinkled her face a little, and let out a long breath. Then there was no more breathing. It was surprisingly very peaceful. I ran to get the nurse, to have them check on her. She was really gone.  I am so grateful that I was there for her during those last few hours, so she wasn't alone. I know she was probably very scared.  At least now she wouldn't suffer any more. 

My mom may have been a pain in the neck sometimes, and definitely had her faults, but she was a wonderful mom to me. She did everything she could to make sure that I had whatever I needed, but she didn't spoil me, either. I have such great memories of growing up, and I owe a lot of them to her. I still can't believe my mom is gone! Forever. Who can I talk to about my baby? Who would I call to ask questions that only your mom can answer? There is no one. No one can replace your mom.  

I still cry on and off, even though it's been many months since I lost my parents. It's like it come and goes, without any warning. I know that's probably normal. Other than feeling sometimes like an emotional roller coaster, I feel pretty good. I know how lucky I am, but there are many times that I feel so sad. I'm sure that's part of the grieving process. I imagine that it will get a little easier as more time passes. What upsets me the most is that I thought I would "feel" something. I was very close to my parents, so the fact that I haven't had any "signs" from them unsettles me. Am I just not seeing them, or do they really just not happen? I don't believe 100% in psychics, but I sure would love to give one a try, just to see what they have to say. Now I know what it feels like to want that "closure" or whatever it is.

I'm about to hit a "milestone" in just a few weeks: not only is it a "big" number, but I'll be the same age as my mom was when she had me. I hope with all of the efforts I am making to keep myself healthy, that I won't have the same painful and unhappy last years like she did. Many people question why I do such  goofy things, like eat organic food and buy organic/chemical-free products - "they're SO expensive!" many say.  "We all have to die of something," is another common one. Well, I would personally rather spend my money on organics now than on drugs and chemo later.  It's worth sacrificing for now.  No, we can't prevent everything from happening, but I'm just trying to minimize my toxic exposure as much as possible.  Some of the things we are exposed to, we have zero or very little control of. And there may be only a little bit of this or that in everything, but when you add up all the toxins that we're exposed to on a daily basis - it's pretty significant. My parents were taking dozens of pills every day, and that is becoming the norm.  I do not want to be a part of that norm. 

Anyways...I could go on and on about that subject, but I'll save that for another time, as that's whole other story all by itself.  I will say to those of you out there who chose to read this, and who haven't yet lost a loved one: cherish your family and friends as much as you can, and try to spend as much time with them as you can. You can't get it back once they're gone, and that is a hard pill to swallow. I wanted one last talk, one last visit with them and the baby, etcetera.  Death is so final, it's scary.  Especially when I don't feel that connection that I thought I would feel.  However, I know that my parents knew that I loved them very much. There are so many things I wish I had done differently, but at least that much I know for sure. I can't imagine how much worse I'd feel if I didn't know that. 

Back to work...and then tragedy (Part 1)

For the first three months, I was on Maternity Leave, which is actually "legally" unpaid FMLA.  I don't think there are many places anymore that you can get ML, especially paid ML.  I've heard about how some European countries let mothers take 2 or more years off when they have a baby - and some, if not all, of that time is paid!  Sadly, that is unheard of in the US.  I was lucky to get 6 weeks short-term disability pay, which still was only 60% of my normal salary.  Had I not had a c-section, I would've only got 4 weeks.  Pretty pathetic.

When my 3rd month of FMLA time was coming to a close, I had mixed emotions.  It had been a hard few months, but I really didn't want to leave my baby, even though he'd be with his dad.  Ideally, we were hoping my hubby would be going back to work, so that I would stay home with the baby - but that just didn't pan out.  I was grateful we didn't have to do daycare, as we both really wanted to be the ones spending the bulk of the time with him.  I was still breastfeeding, and I knew that he had really bonded with me and looked to me for a lot of his comfort.  I worried that it would be traumatic for him to be away from me for so many hours at a time.  I don't live close enough to work to stop home at lunch or anything.  Plus, I felt like my instincts were better than my husband's.  So many worries.  But we didn't have any other options; we needed my stable income and benefits.  My hubby was doing well with trading stocks, but we couldn't rely on that alone.  Luckily, my boss was very generous and was letting me work a reduced schedule, with just enough hours to keep me eligible for benefits. It would probably be good for me to get out of the house a little more, too, as much as I hated to admit it.

I had been tired when I was at home for those three months, but it seemed to be fairly manageable.  Once I went back to work, it really hit me.  Baby was still waking briefly a few times per night, but once I nursed him, he usually went right back out. That had been the case since he was about 2 months old.  But for some reason, when I went back to work, I was so much more tired.  There were a few days that I probably shouldn't have driven to work, I was just so exhausted.  I didn't want to push my luck at work, since I was already allowed such a nice, reduced schedule.  And of course, I'm a "supermom" just like everyone else, I can handle it, right? After a few weeks, I adjusted and I started to feel a little better.  

In addition to all of this, I was working on getting my parents accepted into a nursing home. I was so excited when I had finally gotten approval to move my elderly parents into a wonderful place.  My dad had been resistant, but he had finally relented, knowing he could not care for my mom any longer on his own.  The Friday I took them to their new home is a day I'll never forget.  I had been reminding my dad that the day was coming, and that they needed to be ready to leave when I got to their place after work.  The nursing home was expecting them, and was holding a room for them.  If they didn't show up, they could lose it, and I had worked SO hard to get it for them.  These opportunities are pretty rare, especially with Medicaid coverage, and they NEEDED the 24 hour care desperately. Plus, this place was so much nicer than anywhere else I'd ever seen.  When I got to their place to pick them up, they didn't have a single thing packed.  Dad was sitting in his wheelchair and said "why don't you just take Mom for now, and I'll go there another day."  I got mad and said "No, Dad, you both need to go now.  They are holding this room for you, and if you don't show up today, you could lose your spot."  I starting throwing stuff into garbage bags - clean and dirty clothes, toiletries, and whatever other items they wanted.  I was furious, as I had been at work all day, and didn't want to spend all evening packing and moving them in.  I was exhausted and just wanted to get home to my family and spend a little time with them before bedtime.

A little background on my parents: over the last 5 years, my parents had changed so much. Their health had always been deteriorating, pretty much since I was a teenager, but lately it had gotten significantly worse. And they didn't seem to really care about anyone else anymore.  My dad had always said he didn't want to be a burden for his kids, but he was making our lives very difficult. Especially now that we had a baby to care for.  I think that his pain was so awful that it made him just not care anymore. I felt really bad for him, but at the same time, it was affecting my own family, and not in a good way.  

So, once we were finally on the road to the nursing home (about an hour or so later), it seemed as though we would make it up there at a reasonable time. Even though we had to make a few stops along the way, it wasn't too bad. Then my husband called me and all he said was "he fell off the bed, get home now!" and hung up. I freaked out, and flew home, with my parents still in the car. I was never so scared in my whole life. Baby was ok - his Dr said that as long as he didn't have a goose egg on his head, was throwing up, or just not acting like himself, he was probably fine; but my husband was completely stressed out. All I wanted to do was be home and make sure my baby was ok - but I still had to take my parents to the nursing home, which was about 30 minutes away. It felt like hours. It was pure agony.  I had wanted to help get Mom and Dad settled in a little bit, but I just had to get home.  I apologized to them as I left.  I'll never forget the look on my dad's face. Sadness and disappointment.

Whether it was because of our ordeal on Friday or something else, I didn't make it back up to see them on the weekend. I promised that by the next weekend, we'd all come up and we'd go out for brunch. Dad had said that he thought that was a great idea, and was looking forward to it.

Early the next Saturday morning, I kept hearing my phone vibrating as it was charging in the next room. I finally got up to see who it was: the nursing home and then the Hospice nurse. That wasn't good.  I called the nursing home and the Hospice nurse came on the line moments later. She said the words no one wants to ever hear: "I'm sorry, your father's passed."  I knew it was coming, had been coming for years, but it still was a shock. The first thing I thought of was that we were supposed to go to brunch today. And then how sad he looked when I had seen him last. The nurse asked if I wanted them to tell my mom; she was still sleeping.  I told her yes, but only if she wakes up.  Hopefully we'd get there before she did. 

We got there a few minutes after they had told Mom - and naturally, she was sobbing.  Dad was still there in his bed, like he was sleeping. It was so surreal. I knew it was true, but it just didn't seem possible.  This was my Dad, he can't be gone. Even as I spent the next few days making all the arrangements, canceling things, calling people, etc. it still didn't feel real.  I think you can only understand what it feels like if you've lost someone close to you.  I was also relieved, but really only for my Dad's sake, as I knew he had been suffering a long time, and he just wasn't happy anymore. I don't think he'd given up yet, but I think subconsciously he felt better leaving now, knowing that Mom was in a safe place, with plenty of care.  To this day, it still doesn't feel totally real. I wonder if it ever will.

Coming Home & the First Few Months

The first few days at home were a blur. I still was pretty sore, and had not had much sleep. I was so worried that the baby would sleep too long (he needed to eat every 3 hours, at minimum, according to everything I'd read and been told by the professionals), that I set the alarm on my phone for every 3 hours. I had a notebook by the bed that I wrote down when he ate, which "side" he ate on last, and if he peed or pooped. Talk about obsessed! I think most first time moms are this way, to some extent. You're not completely sure what's "normal," as everything is so new - and definitely not the same as babysitting.

This was MY child. I wanted to do everything "perfectly" for him. I thought that I would have no major problems, as I've always loved babies, been very comfortable around them, and had babysat countless hours over my pre-teen/teen years. So why did I feel like I was struggling so much? Why was this so different? Was it from the surgery? Were my hormones out of whack? Was it just from being exhausted? Probably all of the above. 

I wanted to exclusively breastfeed, but because my thyroid was messed up, my milk production wasn't high enough. At least that's what I thought.  I didn't know it at the time, but you really can't judge how much you're producing by how much you pump. We found a great homemade raw goat milk formula. It was as close to breast milk as you can get, and didn't have any of the junk that even the organic canned formula has. I wasn't happy to be supplementing, at all, but eventually I got over it - and to this day, I'm still breastfeeding, pumping and supplementing.  My husband is now an expert formula maker!

He had reflux (most babies do, I guess - that's why they spit up) so he wanted to eat more to ease the reflux discomfort. Not really knowing how much he should have at each feeding, I fed him as best that I could. When newborns cry, they're either hungry or wet, right?  He would guzzle the bottles down so fast, so I tried pacing him - but it only upset him more. One night when I just couldn't seem to fix whatever was bothering him, I actually gave him a total of 12 ounces in a short time span. Yeah, he threw most of it up on me. Lesson learned. We figured it out, eventually.

It's really hard when your baby cries and you can't seem to comfort him. I felt like I was stupid or something. One night, my husband got so frustrated by his crying (and lack of sleep, I'm sure) that he slept in the spare room. I closed our bedroom door, cried along with our inconsolable baby, and just held him close until he finally stopped crying and fell asleep in my arms.  It was heartbreaking. 

He wasn't a great sleeper. He mostly took 30-45 minute naps. But once in a while, he'd sleep so long (pushing 4-5 hours) that we'd have to wake him up; but we stopped doing that after the first month or so. If he was sleeping, shut the hell up and let him sleep. Not just for our sanity, but I knew he needed the rest to grow. My phone has been on vibrate ever since.  He could sleep through fireworks, but sometimes a soft creak in the floor would wake him up.

I never thought that having a baby would've affected me the way it did. Whether it was post-partum depression, stress (we had a lot of other stuff going on that I haven't even touched on), my thyroid problem or exhaustion, I don't know for sure.  It didn't help that I was also worried about having to go back to work, and leave him at home with his dad. I cried just about every day. For no real reason. I worried constantly. I felt like I was going a little crazy. I knew my husband was stressed too, so a few nights I took the baby and slept in the baby's room, just to give him a break. One of us ought to get one, and since I was breastfeeding, it wasn't really an option for me.  Sometimes nursing was the only thing that calmed him down.  It was challenging, being together all three of us all the time. My husband and I were used to being apart for a week or two when he was working, so this was quite a change for us. I was glad that we were all together, but I needed to get out of the house more than he did. So I would take the baby for walks before it got too hot outside, or go to the mall or Target. But the baby really didn't like the car seat, so I had to time it right to avoid a crying fest in the car. It took some finessing. But I definitely felt better when I got out of the house with the baby. I felt more normal, and human - not as much like a machine.

I think the biggest thing that I learned over those first few months was that nothing is really standard or normal - each baby is different, and all three of us had to adapt to our new life, learning about each other along the way.  We didn't really have anyone to help us, so it was a challenge, especially when you're sleep deprived.  I give a lot more credit to single parents now than I did before. I can't begin to imagine how hard that would be. Especially if you have a high-need baby or if you're using gentle parenting techniques. It takes a lot of patience.  But that's something you have to learn by doing, not something you really can prepare for. I saw an article on one of the Facebook pages that I follow - it said something like "having a child isn't like managing an inconvenience." I really took that to heart. We decided to have a child, and we want to be as involved in raising him ourselves as much as possible. It's a huge responsibility, and I think some people don't understand that fully.  Children are a priority - you're shaping the life of a human being. You just have to let other stuff go.

Those first few months were definitely the hardest, so far. But I learned SO much.  I wish I had learned more before he was born, but who knows how much I would have really absorbed. You tend to learn better and faster when you're in the middle of it, I think. I must say, though, that I'm glad those first few months are over!

His first photo

The Dream Becomes a Reality

For about the last 8 to 10 years, I've felt that I was finally ready to be a mom.  I had finished college, found the man of my dreams, and felt that I was mature enough to handle it.  I was scared, for sure, but I knew that it was something I wanted to do - or I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life.  If I couldn't get pregnant, then that was God's way of saying it wasn't meant to be.  I didn't think I wanted to go through any fertility treatments. If it didn't happen naturally, we would probably look into adoption.  I hoped that wouldn't be the case, because I really wanted child that was part of me.  So when I found out in August of 2012 that I was indeed pregnant, I was very excited, but it also felt VERY unreal.  Another part of my desire to have a child was that I knew my parents' time on this earth was pretty limited - their health was bad, and was getting significantly worse all the time - and I really wanted them to meet my baby.  I hadn't intended on waiting this long to have a baby, but that's just how it worked out.

We decided we wanted to be as natural as we could with my prenatal care.  We were already eating mostly all organic food, so it wasn't a huge lifestyle change. I went to a midwife for my prenatal care. I didn't know what exactly to expect, as I didn't know much about midwives.  She and her office were very professional, but also personable and comfortable - unlike any doctors office I had ever been to. I didn't have an ultrasound done until very late in my pregnancy, just to make sure everything looked ok. We didn't want any major surprises when the baby was born, since we weren't going to be delivering in a hospital. Everything went pretty normal - no major morning sickness or anything.  I was eating really well, drinking not-so-yummy protein shakes that my hubby handmade for me every morning.  It didn't matter to me that they weren't super tasty, though, as I knew it was great for the baby.

 

Many people said over and over "oh, isn't it just so wonderful being pregnant?" and similar things, and although yes, it was wonderful - it was very weird, too.  Mostly so once the baby started moving enough that I could feel it.  Talk about a strange sensation.  It was so hard to believe that there was a tiny human being in my belly. 

 

On Monday, April 22nd, 2013 (my birthday, incidentally) I decided that it would be my last week of work.  I had wanted to work as long as possible, but the baby was "due" that coming Saturday, so I might as well get some rest, as he/she would be here any day.   On Friday, I packed up a few things from my desk, said my goodbyes to everyone, and went home - looking forward to some rest before the baby arrived.  I only got about 6 hours.  Around midnight that same night, my contractions started. So much for getting some rest!  And all my worries about how I might not know if I'm in labor were quickly forgotten.  There is NO mistaking labor pains.  By 5 am, my contractions were 3 minutes apart, so off we went to the birth center.  But by 2pm, the contractions had slowed down, so the midwife broke my water, to hopefully help speed things back up again.  No such luck. I tried everything. Laying in the tub, sitting on the toilet, squatting, lunging, using the breast pump - but the baby appeared to be stuck sideways in the birth canal. The midwife suggested that we go to the hospital to see if I could try Pitocin and hopefully move things along.

Unfortunately, the understanding as-natural-as-possible-labor sympathic Dr. that my midwife talked to over the phone prior to our arrival was not the same Dr. that met us upon arrival at the hospital. She performed a very painful pelvic exam, and stated simply that the baby was sideways and that I needed to have a C-section.  I was so tired (I had been up for 36 hours by now) that I had no strength to argue with her. My husband was beside himself with anger and fear.  Our worst nightmare (besides something bad happening to the baby, of course) had come true - we had to have a non-natural delivery for our baby.  We knew there would be many drugs involved, as this was in-fact major surgery.  But we knew we had no other choice. 

 

So I was prepped for surgery.  I didn't even care that they were sticking a huge needle in my spine, and I hate needles of any kind.  It was quite a relief when I couldn't feel the contractions anymore, I hate to admit. All I cared about now was seeing our baby.  I knew my husband was so upset, but I just had no energy to do anything about it. I tried telling him everything would be fine, but he was just too worried.  We knew what was going to happen, and it was nothing good. There are no "natural" drugs for surgery. A few hours later, our baby - a boy - was here, and he was perfect.  After a few agonizing minutes, we got to see him and touch him.  Finally.  He stayed with us the whole time that I was being put back together, and then we got to have some alone time with him in the post-op room.  I tried breastfeeding him, but he didn't seem too interested - so I just held him close.  He was very sleepy, of course; that had probably been a very traumatic experience for him, as well as I'm sure he received some of the drugs they gave me prior to/during surgery.  I try not to think about that, and just pray that nothing hurt him.  All that good eating and stuff I did when I was pregnant hopefully gave him some protection!  About an hour or so later, the nurse cleared us to go to our own room.

 

I didn't get much sleep that night, either, even though I was so exhausted.  I must have had my 3rd or 4th wind by then. I just held him and stared at him all night long.  I may have drifted off a little here and there, but in a hospital, you know you don't sleep much.  Too many people coming in every 5 minutes to check something.  We didn't let him out of our sight.  And I don't think he spent more than a few minutes in his plastic "crib."  By Sunday afternoon, I was starting to feel the pain.  I couldn't believe how sore I was.  I couldn't get out of the bed without assistance.  I relented and gave in to taking some ibuprofen.  Then on Monday, a day and a half after my surgery, they gave us the ok to go home.  Time to start my new life as a Mother.