Cancer Ever After

Musings on Infertility, Adoption, Parenthood and Cancer

A place in hell

I don’t believe everyone who commits suicide goes to hell, but after tonight I certainly hope you at least make a pit stop there.

After hearing your son talk all day about wanting to fish and hunt just like daddy, and then end the day in tears crying for daddy, you deserve to be there. 30 minutes of crying his heart out for you.

He idolized you. How am I going to teach him these things. I can perhaps forgive you choosing to leave me, but your choice to leave your children this way is unforgivable and selfish.

They loved their perfectly imperfect daddy.

Advertisements
2 Comments »

Lavender and Black

B.K. (Before Kids) – I read voraciously. Nothing to improve my mind, that is seriously overrated. I mainly read trashy romances. Historical, Paranormal, Modern, you could say I’m a connoisseur.

The historical romances always seemed to find a way to work in mourning clothes, or going into mourning. I understand that better now.

I full on lost my shit at Target today.  Finding chicken bullion led to a breakdown in aisle 8.  It reminded me of the last day, where I was so frustrated over what my husband bought when he went to the grocery store. I was mad because he bought ground pork instead of ground sausage and 20 pounds of potatoes instead of 5.  I said something in my irritation, I can’t remember what. It was small, I was blowing off steam.

But is that what he heard? That’s the funny thing about depression. I had no idea he was depressed, but I’ve been there once, very deeply, myself. I understand what it is like to twist what you hear or to focus on particular items. Did I make him feel less than?

Every conversation we’ve had replays in my mind. Any time, I turned away from cuddling, or being woken up for a 2 a.m. romp and said no. Did that feel like rejection? I know what I meant, but how was it heard? What did he think? I used to think we understood each other. Now I question everything.

Hence, the breakdown in Aisle 8, at the McDonald’s drive-through, and in the school entryway.  Now I understand why they wore mourning clothes. It wasn’t about the mourner, it was to warn everyone who came into proximity with them.  I have picked two fights with strangers over small things I would normally let slide.

I still walk, I still talk, and I can still smile. But I’m no longer me inside. What was once filled with love and happiness is now an empty void that occasionally fills with anger, grief, or sadness. I go through the motions, but I’m not really me. I can’t help but wonder, is this how he felt inside and I couldn’t see it?

 

Leave a comment »

Unraveling

We are nearing the due date, and Tim and I have had to narrow our focus to the essentials in these last few weeks: working on the baby’s nursery (it’s a de-wallpapered disaster), building our relationship with the birth mom and really working to define how our open adoption will work, and spending quality time with our girls.

Those are the essentials. The nice-to-haves are a clean house, healthy meals for the girls, and some sleep. Everything else has been stripped as non-essential. There is only so much of us to go around and we need to focus on what matters most.

I thought we were doing much better at this. After some additional conversations with our birth mom, we decided a trip with all of us was in order. It was last-minute, so Tim and I spent a frantic Thursday night and Friday morning packing. The difference is we now have several trips under our belt. We have begun to feel that we are getting good at it. Diaper bag: check. Pack-n-play: check. Clothes, food, medicine, coats, shoes…The list is endless, but we finally felt as if we had it down, right to the big blow-up ducky tub (since my girls are terrified of my mom’s whirlpool tub).

We should have known better than to get cocky. Three hours into the drive, we realized we forgot the diaper bag. So there was an emergency stop for wipes and no diaper cream to be found at 10:30 at night in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t until we got to my mom’s house that we realized that we had forgotten the most critical item–the pack-n-plays. Since most people have babies one at a time, my mom only has one pack-n-play from the years of my nieces and nephews staying. We always bring one from home.

Always Make that usually. We forgot the pack-n-play. It made for a miserable night. Luckily, my mom had a toddler mattress we could use, but poor Hazel fell out in the middle of the night. Our forgetfulness was even more apparent in the harsh light of day. One of Phoebe’s inhalers was missing and the nearest pharmacy that could fill it was 30 miles away. And then there were the coats. Somehow, we managed to forget one of the most critical things for a Kansas winter.

I felt like a terrible mom. If I ever needed a sign that Tim and I had spread ourselves too thin and weren’t functioning at our best, this was it. Luckily, after a very short night (Hazel didn’t sleep much at all), we were able to solve most of them. The DG was having a clearance sale on clothes and our girls now have two very Valentiney tracksuits to help keep them warm. Blankets solved the rest. Vaseline is a great emergency diaper cream. We were getting our mojo back.

And, after a little sleep, I think we also started to regain parts of our minds.

Despite the chaos and forgetfulness, the visit was worth it. We had some great conversations and talked through the birth plan for when we are at the hospital. It was a really great chance to make sure we are all on the same page. It was exactly what we needed.

 Want to help support our adoption? 
Visit our youcaring page and make a donation. Until March 1, each $20 donation will get you entered to win a 3 night stay at the Lake of the Ozarks in Osage Beach Missouri. View here for more information.

Leave a comment »