Right Away, Great Captain!

I'm guilty of turning on an album and leaving it on repeat for days.  Months, even.  My husband hates this about me because he and I tend to have very opposite tastes in music (him:  Anything Country.  Me:  Florence + the Machine, which is totally a genre, by the way!).  Though it's not working at the moment, we had an iPod jack in our room where we could plug in our iPods or phones and play our music over speakers in the ceiling or on the porch.

At some point while Moe was sick, I turned on Right Away, Great Captain and left it on.  I remember walking away from  his still-warm but lifeless body on the grass and wandering back to the house wondering what could possibly be left without him.  The only thing to do was crawl into bed in the middle of a sunny day and cry.  Right Away, Great Captain crooned me to sleep on that horrible, beautiful day.  I let it play on in the days to follow because it held Moe and I together, this thread of mournful music.

Tonight I'm getting ready to say good-bye to one of my characters and I don't want to because it's like letting my boy slip through my fingers again.  My heart hurts and it feels right to play Right Away, Great Captain! again to pull myself back into the grief.  

It's no more than two lines into the first song before I can see him stumbling and feel his slick neck against my cheek.  The curl of dread tightens in my belly as I watch the vet check his pupils and slowed breathing over and over and over until he is satisfied and I know it's done.  I'm broken, with pieces that will never go back together quite right.

Sixteen months and it surprises me how sharp the pain still is and how little it takes to bring me back to that good-bye.  That is the power and wonder of art.

Oh.  How will I ever do this?

For Your Consideration...

Last week I attended my sons' Valentines parties with toddler in tow, even though school parties make me want to drink.  If my kids didn't keep track of these things on some invisible ledger and then judge me with tears filling their huge brown eyes, I'd be happy forgoing them altogether.  Ohboy #2 is especially sensitive to this, and shamed me for a solid week when I accidentally (really!  I swear!) missed his Halloween party.  Ohboy #3 usually gives me grief for overlooking the more obscure school celebrations like "Grandparents/Special Person Day".  When they say "Special Person", apparently that means ME.  It's appropriate, I know.

On Valentine's Day, I dragged myself from one classroom to the other, at the opposite end of the school.  Ohboy #4 happily stomped along with me, and I found myself thankful that he was too big to carry.  I dreaded class parties when he was unsure on his feet and spent most of his time in my arms.  He's never been a small child--he's built more like a linebacker than his refined, aerodynamic siblings.  In the early days I always left functions with my whole body trembling from muscle fatigue and dripping with sweat.  Now that he can walk and throw a mean right hook, it is not quite so bad.

Except...  When my baby is safe in my arms, he can't receive the full force of some kid's hacking cough right in his chubby little face.

Three days later--Sunday morning--he is running a fever and barking like a Sea World performer.  Ohboy #3 follows his lead, spiking a fever soon after.  The next morning Ohboy #2 follows suit.  Luckily, Monday was President's Day, a day already scheduled off from school.  I'm thankful for that built-in recovery time.

Only now it is Wednesday and everyone is still feverish, coughing, and miserable.  And why?  So someone could let their sick child attend a party at school?  So they didn't have to take a day off from work?  But where does that leave my family?

I have health insurance, but it is crappy.  We pay around $80 per office visit because our deductible is, like, a trillion dollars.  To take all three of my younger children in to be cared for, should I need to, I am looking at $240.  Should they need prescriptions of any kind, such as Tamiflu, my out-of-pocket costs would reach nearly $400+.  (And, if we're being technical, my doctor prescribed Tamiflu and when my husband went to pick it up, our insurance was being useless and he would have been required to pay $200 for the prescription for just one child...  He opted not to buy said medicine because we're poor).

Also--what if I was a mother working outside of the home?  I mean, I am, but only when this last birth happens, and then I'm off call for a little while.  But what if I had a 9-5 that I had to take time off to care for my sick kids?  That's a loss of wages for me, as well.  So on top of the expenses for the doctor and the drugs, now I'm not clocking in hours at the job.  And for what?  But because I am a mostly-stay-at-home mother, it must not matter because, heck, I'm home anyway.  Clearly it is not an imposition to me at all to have the plague hit us head-on and then pass through six individuals..... because I stay at home.

And this doesn't even really factor in what my children miss at school--especially Ohboy #2, who struggles more than his younger brother.  I know I'm whining a teensy bit, but, for the love!  This is the fourth round of major illness this winter!  I'm not sure how much more I can take!

All I'm asking is for a little consideration, here.  You and your family are important, but so is mine.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Falling In Love

I feel bad for those of you who don't fall in love every day.

Maybe I'm a sap, deep down inside.  It's always been this way.  Sometimes it is embarrassing, but usually I think it's one of my better traits.  As cynical and sarcastic as I might seem, people do matter to me.  Odds are, you're one of the people who matter.  And I hope that, even just a little, I have mattered to you.

~ Putting on gloves to make sure my best friend's baby doesn't fall on the floor.
~ Is it Mardi Gras?
~ Benchpressing three women and still not hitting the spot, except when it comes to pocket-dialing 9-1-1.
~ Can I get you a glass of water?
~ Peach tea--I don't drink tea, but you can try to convert me!--and, please, punch me in the stomach as soon as that contraction ends.
~ That was not a firm, warm hug.  What a load of....
~  Uhhhh, are you anywhere near a hospital?
~ I'm sorry, Jen.  You're just not strong enough.  Go get him from the lobby.  [reuniting a banished husband with a mom who needed every ounce of his strength.  To date, one of the most beautiful and exhausting experiences I've ever had]
~You're doing wonderfully.  Say hello to my lactation consultant friend.
~ Here, honey.  I just Googled this labor position.
~ Come sit down next to me... and... it's okay your water broke.  These weren't my good Crocs.
~ Blissful immediate skin-to-skin bonding instead of hours of isolation [true for several of my families].  Happy sigh!  My work here is done.
~ You've never met this woman before?  Nope.  Nice to meet you.  Did you want the vitamin K shot?
~ This is the spreadsheet I want you to fill out.  Do you have a finance degree, by any chance?  No?  Well....  Good luck.
~ The epitome of the perfect Bradley method family.  I wish I had a magic wand.
~ A family that became like my own.  Sorry about your sweater.
~ Kids, you're up just in time to meet your new brother.
~ Let your body move in whatever way it needs to.
~ I'm sorry I ate all of your hummus and you can see my sister's bra.  I made you this cute hat(?).... scarf.
~ The Jewish community places high value on sarcasm.  [Now I understand why I function so well within the Jewish community.]
~ Now that I've found you, I may never leave. Stupid GPS.
~ Sweet Virginia, and an even-sweeter family.
~ Happy anniversary to you.  It's not often I get invited to a romantic dinner for five.
~ Baby Moe.  Oh....  Baby Moe.
~ I recognize the toddler in the visitor lounge.  That can't be good....
~ Sifting a baby right out.  Mimosas and chocolate chip pancakes for all!
~ Advocating so well for yourself that you nearly shoot the eyebrows off of your Ghandi-like midwife.
~ Like a Boss.
~ Eating Snickerdoodle bars with your husband even though you are fasting.  I'm glad you are my friend and will forgive me when all is said and done.  <3
~ They keep telling me my baby is smart, and yet she wants to stay breech.  Is she smart or isn't she?  (It turns out, she was smart and so were they).  Oversharers = my peeps.
~Fist-bump between pushes.... and ice cream and chocolate sauce solves everything.

~ You were never broken.  (And I greatly appreciate anyone who giggles at a good "balls" joke.)

~ Seven diapers in one hour is no joke.

~ You did Fantasti*con.... and I'm not just saying that to be creepy.  :-)

There are more moments than time and words to share, but I add to this rich mosaic one piece at a time.  It may be nonsense or silly to you, but to me, it is the reason I do what I do.  It is why I return the e-mails, make the calls, drive the miles, sip the lattes, and wedge myself into impossible pretzels in the corner of that birthing room.  Because I meet and fall in love with hopeful people all the time.

Waiting In the Wings

Several weeks ago, just after losing Moe, I had to step over this to leave the barn.  I keep forgetting to post it, but I think it was a small reminder that there is beauty to be found even in the suckiest of circumstances.