Friday, January 24, 2020
Sitting in Wait
11 years ago I was just about half way through one of the hardest things I've ever done, I was blundering through my first induction of labor, sick on magnesium, and fully unprepared for what was about to overhaul our lives, but also too young, and too dumb to know how sick I really was, and how under prepared we really were. The truth is, I hardly remember most my labor the parts i do remember are pretty intense and postpartum depression and psychosis left a lots of blank holes in my memories the first 6 months of Hanks life. What I do know is we eventually found our way as parents, that somehow Hank taught me not just to be a mom, but how to be his mom. My first labor taught me what I was capable of surviving, and gave me just enough lingering courage to do it again 2 years later. My first catapult into postpartum depression taught me how to be proactive about my mental health not only in postpartum periods, but also in the in betweens. Being his mom gave me perspective and courage to stand in truth and face a lot of things that needed changing, but on this day 11 years ago I didn't know all of that was coming. I remember that it was quiet and my new husband was sitting at my side in wait with me as my first long labor was just barely getting started.
Thursday, January 16, 2020
Making the Change
I took my first trip overseas when I graduated high school. I was lucky enough to see England and France, and it forever changed my plans and perceptions. It immediately made me aware that venturing out was not only possible, but also much easier than I had realized. I returned on my own as soon as I was able and fell in love with the Eastern European way of living. I spent pretty much all my efforts throughout nursing school and after finding ways back to the city and work I fell in love with in Bucharest. I loved walking to work, taking public transportation, eating my meals from the corner market and picking up bread on my way back from the same bakery every day. When I settled back in the states I thought I was only going to be back for a short time to earn enough money to head back to Romania for as long as possible. In my time back I reconnected with my my very first love who I had not spoken to for years and in short order married him and had our first little one Hank. I looked for that same feel of living, hoping urban life would offer the same feel, and at times it does. I love living in cities with public transportation, trains to take, walkable neighborhoods, and good food.While I felt it might be possible to for us to travel the idea of living overseas seemed like a foregone conclusion.
Five years ago I started reading about families that take a gap year, it immediately called back all my longings for adventures, a different way of living, and a different experience for our kids. However, most families taking gap years seemed to either have assets that allowed for them to do so financially, or had careers that made it possible to work from the road. It wasn't until more recently the idea that moving towards a different way of living became something we really agreed and shared the same vision for, and all my old thoughts of how doable travel and living in other countries can be. There is no reason for us not to be a nurse and a paramedic in Cambridge instead of being a nurse and a paramedic in Nashville. Really one just has to start taking the steps to do it. I was only 17 when I took my first trek to England and France on a chaperoned trip with a rather intense southern baptist christian school, it was only 6 months before I made my second excursion by myself and fell fully in love with all the aspects of life in Bucharest, I immediately tried (unsuccessfully) to extend my trip and stay through Christmas, and soon felt I never wanted to leave. Taking the steps and working towards moving to Cambridge feels like answering the call to a part of myself that I had turned away from and in a sense given up on for now, but once pulled back out into the light, all my affection for this part of who I am is as strong as it ever was. All we have to do is take the steps to make the change in where we are to where we want to be.
Five years ago I started reading about families that take a gap year, it immediately called back all my longings for adventures, a different way of living, and a different experience for our kids. However, most families taking gap years seemed to either have assets that allowed for them to do so financially, or had careers that made it possible to work from the road. It wasn't until more recently the idea that moving towards a different way of living became something we really agreed and shared the same vision for, and all my old thoughts of how doable travel and living in other countries can be. There is no reason for us not to be a nurse and a paramedic in Cambridge instead of being a nurse and a paramedic in Nashville. Really one just has to start taking the steps to do it. I was only 17 when I took my first trek to England and France on a chaperoned trip with a rather intense southern baptist christian school, it was only 6 months before I made my second excursion by myself and fell fully in love with all the aspects of life in Bucharest, I immediately tried (unsuccessfully) to extend my trip and stay through Christmas, and soon felt I never wanted to leave. Taking the steps and working towards moving to Cambridge feels like answering the call to a part of myself that I had turned away from and in a sense given up on for now, but once pulled back out into the light, all my affection for this part of who I am is as strong as it ever was. All we have to do is take the steps to make the change in where we are to where we want to be.
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| My first time in England (17) |
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| Trying to find a spot to smoke when on a Christian school trip abroad occupied a lot of time for me. |
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| When the female terminator came to work with us in Romania. Also my first trip to Paris |
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| My Romanian tutor teaching me to make Satamale |
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| The first trip I took in Romania where I helped translate and guide without Nan |
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| Me before my last trip to Romania (22) |
Thursday, January 9, 2020
More of Less
At the start of this month the word that kept coming up for me was more. More of my kids, more time with Sean, more of the things I find the most joy in. What is becoming clearer is the way to more is less.
We have always been on top of releasing the clutter and keeping things cleaned out for the most part, but this also mean downsizing the amount of things we bring home or purchase. It has been easier to keep this perspective, even through the holidays for a few reasons. One being that we have been strapped financially so we were very conscious about having a small and meaningful Christmas with our kids and two I do not want to buy anything that we will have to sell or purge before moving, and we will likely take very little with us due to the cost of transporting things over seas. If we really want more of our kids, it means they will need to be surrounded by less and so will we. Less distractions with things to keep them playing with each other and interacting with us instead of their things.
As parents I think we are often told with more kids we need more space. Honestly, often I feel like we need more space, and the definition of more space increased when we moved to the South. Housing down here is much bigger! However, as we have moved and obtained more space, I have realized it did not change the amount of private or even quiet time we were able to find as parents. Our kids often do what I call herding, which means no matter what room Sean or I are in, they collect around us like a little herd. The smaller the room the more they seem to herd! I find myself standing in the middle of 3 medium and 1 tiny human at the bathroom sink more times that I care to count. More space has not really brought more happiness or more peace, instead it has often made both Sean and I feel lonely or sad and worried about our one kid whose room is at the opposite end of the house. As a mom, I have often felt the need to herd my little brood all together when the lights are out and we are at rest. Just this week, after feeling tearful over this very thing and talking it over with Sean we asked Archie if he liked being in his room alone farther away, and he said no, he doesn't like sleeping alone. He said the rest of the family is all in one hall as a unit, and he is all by himself (cue more motherly tears), so we are moving him up to share some space with his sister and be in the fold with us. Last night as we all went to sleep along the same hall way it felt better, less lonely, right for us at night. We will need less space but likely more boundaries as we are trying to teach the small herd to respect when one of us steps away for a minute of quiet or alone time. I am not sad about the idea of moving into a small English cottage in Cambridgeshire or Bury St. Edwards. Instead as we are looking for more of the things that matter, I am looking forward to more quiet, more together, and less distraction.
We have always been on top of releasing the clutter and keeping things cleaned out for the most part, but this also mean downsizing the amount of things we bring home or purchase. It has been easier to keep this perspective, even through the holidays for a few reasons. One being that we have been strapped financially so we were very conscious about having a small and meaningful Christmas with our kids and two I do not want to buy anything that we will have to sell or purge before moving, and we will likely take very little with us due to the cost of transporting things over seas. If we really want more of our kids, it means they will need to be surrounded by less and so will we. Less distractions with things to keep them playing with each other and interacting with us instead of their things.
As parents I think we are often told with more kids we need more space. Honestly, often I feel like we need more space, and the definition of more space increased when we moved to the South. Housing down here is much bigger! However, as we have moved and obtained more space, I have realized it did not change the amount of private or even quiet time we were able to find as parents. Our kids often do what I call herding, which means no matter what room Sean or I are in, they collect around us like a little herd. The smaller the room the more they seem to herd! I find myself standing in the middle of 3 medium and 1 tiny human at the bathroom sink more times that I care to count. More space has not really brought more happiness or more peace, instead it has often made both Sean and I feel lonely or sad and worried about our one kid whose room is at the opposite end of the house. As a mom, I have often felt the need to herd my little brood all together when the lights are out and we are at rest. Just this week, after feeling tearful over this very thing and talking it over with Sean we asked Archie if he liked being in his room alone farther away, and he said no, he doesn't like sleeping alone. He said the rest of the family is all in one hall as a unit, and he is all by himself (cue more motherly tears), so we are moving him up to share some space with his sister and be in the fold with us. Last night as we all went to sleep along the same hall way it felt better, less lonely, right for us at night. We will need less space but likely more boundaries as we are trying to teach the small herd to respect when one of us steps away for a minute of quiet or alone time. I am not sad about the idea of moving into a small English cottage in Cambridgeshire or Bury St. Edwards. Instead as we are looking for more of the things that matter, I am looking forward to more quiet, more together, and less distraction.
Friday, January 3, 2020
Somewhere Slower
A great many things are hanging in the balance these days. Sean and I have invested several years and countless hours to the places we work, and things are changing. Nashville is changing, our kids are growing, and we are no longer the family of three that we were when we moved here 10 years ago. We've doubled to a family of six. Nashville has always felt like a transition point, a staging ground for us to figure out what next. It was a compromise at best, but for both Sean and I it has not felt like a permanent home.
Phases in our marriage are changing too, we are leaving the phase of early marriage, pregnancy, newborn babies, and growing our family. Into maturing kids, school schedules, sports practices, and right around the corner our first three starting puberty one after the other. The past two years have been a refining of our wants and plans by intense fire, a phase that has been harder to weather than any other so far. One of facing the challenges of mental health and wellness for our kids and ourselves, an unexpected baby, followed by an unexpected major home renovation, followed by a foreclosure that we barely made our way out of without losing our home, and all the stress that those things bring on a marriage and a family. None of which we were emotionally or financially prepared for.
We both grew up moving often, and I never thought I would want that for my kids, but here we are looking for what might be next, where might our next home be. When we packed it all up and arrived in Tennessee we were proud that we took the plunge and were not afraid to move on from a place that was not working for both of us. I am eager to be on the other side of this phase and anticipating the start of a new one. In all of it we have landed on the same page with the same desires. Eager to be able to step back and enjoy our kids at the age they are, full of idealistic longings for a culture that values family time, and has the structure to support the raising of kids. Somewhere slower, where we can work to live not just survive.
The short list:
- Socialized Medicine
- Accessibility to travel
- Good family support
- Free continued education
- Walkable living (to become a car free family)
- Good free/affordable primary education
- English speaking, as I don't see being able to master a second language to work in health care
Monday, December 31, 2018
Hopeful
If I could sum up 2018 the first word that comes to mind is, Defeated. It isn't cheerful or a glossy reflection. The year prior brought us several unexpected turns, and it feels like before we could catch our breath and find our bearings things began to fall apart. Each time I tried to trust my intuition and gut it seems to lead us further astray and I have yet to figure out what the lesson was if there is one to be found. With the coming of sweet Frances we found ourselves under an immense amount of financial and emotional strain. Estranged in many ways by stress, work obligations, and the push and pull that can come with raising 4 small individuals with large feelings.
We have grown, that is for sure. Our limits have been stretched as parents and as partners. I feel we will spend most of 2019 finding our way back to each other. Finding that defeat is a temporary state of being, and there is much to be found in the aftermath.
We have grown, that is for sure. Our limits have been stretched as parents and as partners. I feel we will spend most of 2019 finding our way back to each other. Finding that defeat is a temporary state of being, and there is much to be found in the aftermath.
Sunday, May 13, 2018
postpartum
How do I unburden myself with words and language through my fingertips not my mouth, because speaking some things makes them more confusing and I am a mass of frustrated emotions.
I am tired, angry I'm tired. I am sad, angry that I am sad.
I am grieving the loss of things I didn't know I needed at the time or that I would miss once I was finished with them. Frustrated I spent and entire 10 months feeling guilty for wanting to be happy about a new baby. So much so, that I willed my last pregnancy to pass unnoticed so it did.
Grieving a labor that was nothing like what I had hoped or expected, where I could not compose myself, nor could I figure out what I needed in the brief space of moments between contractions which seemed to require everything in me this time. I thought if I could just get to that moment, that in the end we could come together, but we didn't and I was unable to find the strength to help myself.
I am all poured out with nothing left to give, it shows when my kids need me the most and I can't find a soft answer, it shows because I feel like tears are always just near the surface and so is the frustration and anger. This is nothing I ever wanted for myself or for my kids. I am just keeping it steady, just barely keeping myself on time to work, my kids on time to school, the bills mostly on time to the collectors, and at the end of the day another 24 hours passed and I didn't find the way to actually finding joy in any of my actions. Medication is just enough to make me functional, but not enough to free me. No one ever really mentions that you can love your baby and love you kids and still feel this depression so deep, so strong that the second they are all asleep the whole weight of housework and schedules, and work comes pressing down so hard you can't breathe.
It is fairly easy to feel not enough these days. Like I am not a good enough mom, not a perfect enough house keeper, or a talented enough decorator. Examples of perfection are just a mouse click finger swipe away. As are all the examples of what good enough looks like.
I am aching for summer, for two weeks from now so we can unplug from the things that are pushing the agenda of good enough, on time enough, studied enough, tested well enough, and do we have enough on us. I am ready to uproot and start fresh and see if we can't start to appreciate that we have enough, or maybe we even have too much.
I am tired, angry I'm tired. I am sad, angry that I am sad.
I am grieving the loss of things I didn't know I needed at the time or that I would miss once I was finished with them. Frustrated I spent and entire 10 months feeling guilty for wanting to be happy about a new baby. So much so, that I willed my last pregnancy to pass unnoticed so it did.
Grieving a labor that was nothing like what I had hoped or expected, where I could not compose myself, nor could I figure out what I needed in the brief space of moments between contractions which seemed to require everything in me this time. I thought if I could just get to that moment, that in the end we could come together, but we didn't and I was unable to find the strength to help myself.
I am all poured out with nothing left to give, it shows when my kids need me the most and I can't find a soft answer, it shows because I feel like tears are always just near the surface and so is the frustration and anger. This is nothing I ever wanted for myself or for my kids. I am just keeping it steady, just barely keeping myself on time to work, my kids on time to school, the bills mostly on time to the collectors, and at the end of the day another 24 hours passed and I didn't find the way to actually finding joy in any of my actions. Medication is just enough to make me functional, but not enough to free me. No one ever really mentions that you can love your baby and love you kids and still feel this depression so deep, so strong that the second they are all asleep the whole weight of housework and schedules, and work comes pressing down so hard you can't breathe.
It is fairly easy to feel not enough these days. Like I am not a good enough mom, not a perfect enough house keeper, or a talented enough decorator. Examples of perfection are just a mouse click finger swipe away. As are all the examples of what good enough looks like.
I am aching for summer, for two weeks from now so we can unplug from the things that are pushing the agenda of good enough, on time enough, studied enough, tested well enough, and do we have enough on us. I am ready to uproot and start fresh and see if we can't start to appreciate that we have enough, or maybe we even have too much.
Monday, June 12, 2017
Limbo on Wednesday
Wednesday was routine and normal, I finished a long clinic day, came home to put kids to bed with Sean, and lay down on the couch to watch T.V.
I haven't felt great for a couple weeks, but it's been busy, and it can be hard to tell if it's my kidneys or my lower back, or my pelvis, any number of things that seem to ache a little too early this time with little number four. By bedtime all of that seemed to change in a hurry as I felt a warm gush and realized I was bleeding, or maybe more. I've been asked over and over since then, was it all blood, was there fluid, how much, what time? I should have been more observant, instead I melted in to tears and couldn't seem to compose myself.
There is always a fear in me that you can't have the things you want too badly. I am not sure where it is rooted. I simultaneously felt I knew I wouldn't get to have this baby and that this seemed so unfair before we even made our way to the hospital. I thought of all the things, the one's I'd ignored all week like refilling prenatal vitamins, checking to see if I had a kidney infection, checking to see if I could take the same pinworm medication the rest of my family was on because of summer grubs, and if I drink enough water or eat enough food that does not happen to be a lime popsicle.
I've been in limbo hanging on the balance of those thoughts and fears since then. I cried in ultrasound number one because the baby was there moving with a fast beating heart. Then cried when they told me they thought my water had broken and I weighed the implications and felt sick at the decisions we might need to make. I cried in the second ultrasound because the tech kept exclaiming how perfect the baby looked and was taking pictures of five tiny perfect toes linked to perfect little legs and I feel inept to move forward or move at all based on the measurement of fluid today versus what the fluid might be later on.
Today was more of tears over my kids eating lunchables again followed by dinner brought from friends and first gymnastics classes I can't attend as I feel useless in the bed and on the couch while their summer freedom is wasted on tablets and making their own breakfasts while I watch Chopped on Hulu and count at the end of the day to make sure I ate at least one whole meal today because nothing sounds good even though I am watching hours of people making food.
The nurse in me has followed out all the scenarios complete with real life examples to back them up and a longing that this was happening at least 8 weeks from now so that we could be in some realm of viability that I could see my way through.
Most of me just says, not fair, not fair, not fair. While the rest of me thinks what is fair anyways, because there are a lot of people dealing with a lot of not fair all the time.
I haven't felt great for a couple weeks, but it's been busy, and it can be hard to tell if it's my kidneys or my lower back, or my pelvis, any number of things that seem to ache a little too early this time with little number four. By bedtime all of that seemed to change in a hurry as I felt a warm gush and realized I was bleeding, or maybe more. I've been asked over and over since then, was it all blood, was there fluid, how much, what time? I should have been more observant, instead I melted in to tears and couldn't seem to compose myself.
There is always a fear in me that you can't have the things you want too badly. I am not sure where it is rooted. I simultaneously felt I knew I wouldn't get to have this baby and that this seemed so unfair before we even made our way to the hospital. I thought of all the things, the one's I'd ignored all week like refilling prenatal vitamins, checking to see if I had a kidney infection, checking to see if I could take the same pinworm medication the rest of my family was on because of summer grubs, and if I drink enough water or eat enough food that does not happen to be a lime popsicle.
I've been in limbo hanging on the balance of those thoughts and fears since then. I cried in ultrasound number one because the baby was there moving with a fast beating heart. Then cried when they told me they thought my water had broken and I weighed the implications and felt sick at the decisions we might need to make. I cried in the second ultrasound because the tech kept exclaiming how perfect the baby looked and was taking pictures of five tiny perfect toes linked to perfect little legs and I feel inept to move forward or move at all based on the measurement of fluid today versus what the fluid might be later on.
Today was more of tears over my kids eating lunchables again followed by dinner brought from friends and first gymnastics classes I can't attend as I feel useless in the bed and on the couch while their summer freedom is wasted on tablets and making their own breakfasts while I watch Chopped on Hulu and count at the end of the day to make sure I ate at least one whole meal today because nothing sounds good even though I am watching hours of people making food.
The nurse in me has followed out all the scenarios complete with real life examples to back them up and a longing that this was happening at least 8 weeks from now so that we could be in some realm of viability that I could see my way through.
Most of me just says, not fair, not fair, not fair. While the rest of me thinks what is fair anyways, because there are a lot of people dealing with a lot of not fair all the time.
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