Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Markus + Snow = Love

Markus told me on the way out to the car after skating tonight that he loves the snow. He then nailed me with two snowballs and caught a snowflake on his tongue. :) 



Over 100 of his snowballs


Sunday, January 26, 2014

Monday, January 20, 2014

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Love is when someone asks
for a starburst and you
give them a red or pink one

 

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Two Sides of Enough

Sometimes I find myself sitting behind the wheel of the car thinking enough with the hockey. Enough with the chauffeuring, the gas-guzzling, the game-to-game. Enough with the broken windshield where a nice new one used to be. Sometimes I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror thinking enough with the wrinkles, the puffiness, and the sleep-deprived eyes. Enough with the loose skin and the unstoppable gray hairs. Enough with the laugh lines that look anything but happy.

Sometimes I find myself standing in front of an empty refrigerator thinking, enough with the meal prep: morning, noon, and night. Enough with the burn from bacon grease when making breakfast and packing lunches at the same time. Sometimes I find myself gazing at photos of tropical beaches and secluded getaways thinking... Enough with the perpetual ticking clock, enough with the steady stream of demands, the dust bunnies, and homework. Enough with the needs of others that never seem to be satisfied. But then something happens to pull me out of my negative abyss and set my head on straight.

Sometimes when I say, “Enough,” I forget that enough has two sides. My life’s little joys – like nightly hugs, sweet faces, and looking into the eyes of the ones you love – are the soft side of enough. They are the cool side of the pillow on a sleepless night. In one turn, these little blessings soothe away the bad, the draining, and the ugliness of my life.

These small little things are enough—enough to get me back up to do it all again tomorrow.

And although sometimes I find myself thinking, “I am done with today,” when it comes right down to it, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

I open my arms and hold him for a moment. And like an overextended inner tube stretched beyond capacity, my son is the key to releasing all that is pent up. I feel the pressure slowly seep from my body as my shoulders begin to relax.

“I’m glad that you are my mom.”





Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Essence of Life






Working in the Neurological Rehabiliation Unit (Neuro-Rehab) is an experience that can’t quite be put into words. It’s fast-paced, intense, and the stress of some situations can even occasionally make my own heart rate go up as high as one of our traumatic brain injury patients.
Some people love me. I was just given a certificate for one year of service. A week later I started my second semester of nursing school. I can promise you that you do not want to be a patient in my unit. If you are then that means you’re really sick. But I can also promise you that if you end up here you will get stellar care by a team of the best health care providers available.
Often times I may act a little wacky though. I may seem rude at times. Maybe my patients catch me acting totally inappropriate for the situation at hand. Maybe they've even thought, “how can you act that way with all this going on with my family member?”
Well, I have my reasons. Following is a letter to the families of Rehab patients everywhere.
Dear Disenchanted Family Member of My Rehab Patient,
So you walked in to me singing a song out loud as I hung that tube feeding, huh? You were a little bewildered, and thought, “Is that from the Sound of Music? Why is she so inappropriately jolly considering my dad has a tube down his nose?!”
First off, it is the Sound of Music. After all, these are a few of my favorite things.
I’m not singing for my own satisfaction. What you don’t realize is I’m singing to calm my nerves, to keep myself relaxed. Your dad almost died before he came here. I’m concerned for him, but I don’t want you to see that on my face. I don’t want you to worry about him. That’s my job. I just want you to love him.
I know you just heard us laughing and cracking a joke in the hall. I get it. You don’t see anything funny with your mom being paralyzed in that bed, attached to all those monitors.
I understand. I do. I hope you can understand that while you were home sleeping unaware I watched the young mother next door go home on hospice. She couldn’t fight the cancer anymore. Now she can die at home peacefully with her family. At 34 she didn’t think she'd run out of time…doctors tried. I begged God, but she went anyway. I heard her son say, "But Mommy who's going to cook dinner for me every night?" and she let him cry in her hair for twenty minutes.

There also was a code blue. My coworkers restarted the heart of the man across the hall. They did CPR on him so many times, and actually broke his ribs. Just when they were afraid it wouldn’t restart, it did.
Some times I have to laugh. It’s the only thing I can do. I know when I cry, it's so hard to be able to stop.
I’m really sorry if I seemed short with you when you came in to visit. I know you thought I was being rude, and I know that once outside again you complained about me, saying “she must have wanted a break instead of taking time to talk to me!”
No. I won’t get a break today. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was focused on the change I just noticed on your dad’s pulse ox. I was wondering what I would try when I have my license, when his blood pressure plummets again. You see, the RN is giving the maximum amount of all those drugs you see hanging. I know you’re not ready to say goodbye. I’m not ready to give up. That distracts me sometimes and makes me a less than perfect conversationalist.
I want you to know that when I see your grandma in this condition I feel your pain. I think of my own grandma who passed away after her own aneurism. When their conditions mirror each other, so similar in presentation, it’s like peeling the scab off my grief. I don’t let you see that, but I choke back my own tears while you cry.
Oh dear mom, as you try to maintain your composure while your child remains paralyzed, I have to fight to keep from sobbing all over your shirt while I hug you. Your situation is a very real confrontation of the frailty of our children. I don’t like it as a mother. I will sweat blood to fight for your son's comfort, no matter the age. I know it could be mine just as easy.
My kind sir, as you cry over your injured spouse, I’m sorry that I have to walk away. I’m sorry I can’t be stronger for you. For a moment I place myself in your shoes. I imagine my loved one laying there, and I grieve with you. Then I get back on the gloves and I change the brief on your bride. I just wanted you to know that.
My singing, dancing, laughing behavior might make you think I’m indifferent. Or my distraction and firmly set expression might make you think I don’t care.
But I do.
What you don’t see is when I pull into my driveway at the end of the night after my long shift has ended. Often times I put my car into park and I cry. All the stress of fighting for them, all the grief pushed away, all the emotions finally have time and catch up to me. I don’t sing or laugh. I bawl.
Then I wipe my eyes and go inside. I hug my boys a little tighter. Then I go to bed early so I can come back in the morning and fight another day.
I just wanted you to know.
Sincerely, 
Your Rehab Tech aka Nursing Student 

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

New Doors



When Morgen's alarm went off at 6 am he jumped right in to the shower. 


I had no idea he would actually choose to sign up for classes this early in the morning. But as he was considering which major to go in to and looking at all the options, I took him out to the college to meet with his counselors two different occasions, and he really wanted to take this computer class. So he now has school earlier than when he had high school! And it's his choice. He is taking two computer classes, sociology, art history and scuba this semester. He already completed all of his math requirements when he passed the AP calculus test in 10th grade. And his scores were such on his ACT that he ineluctably has one English class. 


I'm so proud of him for his choices and excited for the new doors that are opening for him right now. He also starts two new jobs this week. So when I watched him walk in to his first college class today help me understand why I just bawled?! 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hWMecluFs60

I watched this video on my phone, dried my tears and drove to my own class, Nursing Fundamentals (Fundy's). New doors are opening all around me. 

Friday, January 3, 2014

You Help Me See

I used to wake up in the morning feeling tired. Already bored with the day in front of me. Bitter that life was not moving in the “right direction.” Waiting in anticipation for Friday to appear, only to be disappointed that nothing fun was on my agenda.
The days all blurred together. The weeks turned into months. The seasons changed. Another year went by.
Planned vacations were always something to look forward to, and, in general, life was uneventful.
And I was not at peace.

When I wasn't at peace with myself, it was difficult to relate to anyone around me. Relationships suffered. Friendships went by the wayside. I felt alone. Completely and utterly alone. Miserable.

It was often hard to smile.
At certain moments, I'd see a sparkle of light, it did not hang around as long as I'd like it to.
I dreamed that something would “happen” in my life that would force me to wake up. Take notice. Make a change. I didn't realize I had it in me all along to go in deep and take action all by myself.
For me, it was a combination of both.
On the afternoon of August 5th, 1995 at 3:23 p.m., I gave birth to my little baby, Morgen.
I remember waking up in the middle of that night with him laying by my side thinking, “Oh my, there is someone that needs me in order to thrive.” Although he was growing inside of me for nine months, nothing really prepared me for that moment. All of a sudden, I was a mom, and it was no longer about me. There was another life for which I was responsible.
And what a beauty he was.
He became my shining light.
The days were no longer boring. Every minute had a purpose. And as he grew, he became my most influential teacher.
The days were not boring to him. He was in awe of everything he encountered.
Prudence getting potty trained was absolutely the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. 
And at three years old, he knew exactly what he wanted at any given moment of the day. The glory of being a child.

I decided to be a child again. I decided I was going to wake up beaming with joy every morning and go to sleep feeling content with myself and with my life.

{A word... Making my son my reason for feeling needed and/or loved was dangerous, and as such Morgen felt a huge responsibility for my happiness. In my innocence, I had accidentally placed a heavy burden on him for my mental well-being. I have read that a lot of first time mothers do this; and single mom's, as well. I realized my mistake when he was about 10 years-old and I made baby steps to rectify it. Today he knows that he is not responsible for my peace of mind. His happiness is not centered around making ME happy, that never worked for either of us. Contentment I now know, is found within. I let my boys be little boys, not caregivers for my discontent. No one can be my reason for living, having Morgen was simply the moment when I woke up and the best day of my life.}     








I don’t keep track of the days anymore. Mondays feel like Saturdays. Thursdays feel like Fridays. Every day is special. Every day has purpose.
I eat nourishing food my body needs in order to thrive. I make sure I find time to myself every day.
I love what I do.
{You help me see the beauty in everything}
I see beauty in everything.
  • The smile on Markus' face when I pick him up from school.
  • The way Molly leaps down the stairs.
  • The glory on my son's face when he won his first running race.
  • The tranquility of the Grand Canyon on our way home from Phoenix.
  • The flowers blooming in our yard each spring.
  • And the uniqueness of every human being on this planet.
Traveling and new people, new places, new insights, new experiences help me beam with joy every morning. While I enjoy every day to every extent, I can hardly wait to go on the next adventure. Last year it was Arizona, this year I hope to volunteer in Costa Rica or Kenya or Rio possibly through my work/study nursing school program. It turns I did pass my pharmacology class with a "B" and as such will get to remain in school. I am not sure what my story holds, I hope it holds many adventures that I have yet to realize. Thank you for sharing your story. It makes me smile. I have been given the gift of my boys and the sunshine they add to my life and I am so incredibly grateful to have found the thing that makes me feel content every night and that is traveling with them. Everything is amazing through their little eyes. Explore. It's MY word for 2014. :)
What makes you feel inspired in this new year? I’d love to know.