Game Called life

Courtesy of momlogic.com

I had one of those days. Not only am I sick to death of Miley videos, jokes, references, tweets, and innuendo, as well as devastated by the events happening in Syria I have had my own personal struggles in the form of a hormonal teenage daughter, a truck that won’t start and a husband that is hours away for the next ten days. All things considered I know that I have it so much better than a lot of people. My husband may be away but he offered to drive home to my rescue. For those of you who know me, you are aware that as much as I may think I want to be rescued it would make me feel weak and needy. I have the most wonderful friends that jumped at the chance to come to my rescue and gave me something I didn’t even know I needed. A moment to breathe, to laugh, to share a glass of wine with friends. A moment to feel like it was OK to be something other then a wife and a mother. Sometimes I need to just be me. Also, my teenage daughter really is amazing. However, she is sometimes an emotional ball of hormones that she doesn’t quite know how to handle and we are trying so hard to navigate a neatly painted line somewhere in-between crying and screaming. I am trying hard to raise a smart, capable and accountable young lady in a world full of entitled youth of Generation “I”

Recently I have been faced with that all too familiar struggle of trying to split 200% of myself between all the things that matter in my life. When one thing requires more attention I seem to lose my balance and the balls I am juggling come crashing down. I stand tall against whatever I am faced with in life but sometimes I feel like I am inevitably going to fall.

I know that a lot of people feel how I am feeling right now. Wondering how they can be everything they need to be to the people in their lives and still have enough left over for themselves. I know how important it is to take time for myself. If I were to give advice to any of my friends I would most definitely tell them that they are the most important person in their lives and they need to make the time for themselves. Giving advice is always the easy part.

It has been fifteen months since I quit my job to stay at home. My biggest fear was losing myself, being insignificant and dependent. I think my family has absolutely benefited from me being home but often I feel I am spending way too much time trying to convince them that I am not a maid. I am an involved parent, sometimes to the point that I am not the wife I would like to be or a good friend to myself. I am still figuring it all out. I don’t strive for perfection, just quiet imperfection and happiness. I pray sometimes and I still wish on stars.

My goal is laugh more, to steal time for myself to do the things that are important to me, to say no to things that I don’t have time for and that add stress that I don’t need. I want to experience the moment without worry or anticipation of the next. I want to be present and accounted for in my own life. I want to learn from my mistakes without holding myself in constant judgment. I want to expect less of people but quietly encourage more. I want to abandon the idea of who I think I should be and be the person I know I can be. I want to love more, and forgive things that weigh me down.

Here I go….wish me luck as I continue to play my hand at this game called life!

P.S. I also need to make more time for wine!!

Game Called Life (The Big C Main Title) by Leftover Cuties

It’s so hard to turn your life over
Step out of your comfort zone
It’s so hard to choose one direction
When your future is unknown
Is this some kind of a joke, will someone wake me up soon?
And tell me this was just a game we played, called life.
Are we, are we all really slaves?
By the hands of ourselves
id I really make all of those mistakes?
Am I really getting older?Then why do I feel so lost?
Is this some kind of a joke, will someone wake me up soon?
And tell me this was just a game we played, called life.
And at the end of the road, is there someone waiting?
Do I get a medal for surviving this long?
Is this some kind of a joke, will someone wake me up soon?
And tell me this was just a game we played, called life.
Is this some kind of a joke, will someone wake me up soon?
And tell me this was just a game we played, called life.

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Talking with teens

Photo compliments of http://imgfave.com/

“why fit in when you were born to stand out? -Dr. Suess

It has been a busy week and even though I have a beautiful new laptop and plenty to say on a multitude of subjects, I took a little hiatus to catch up with friends and hang out with my daughters. It may seem a little lazy but below is a quote taken directly from Facebook, it is advice I gave to my daughters thirteen year old friend after a post she made about society and it’s ugliness. So many teens feel that they are not good enough, not skinny enough, not pretty enough, unloved and unwanted.

Why is this? Are we as parents letting our kids know how loved, beautiful and important they are. Are we teaching them the true meaning of beautiful?

I think of my children when they were first born, as pure as the mountain air. All of our children were born that way. Who taught them to hate themselves, dislike their bodies, feel they weren’t good enough? Who taught them to judge themselves and others by an unrealistic version of perfect?

Every single person that notices that something is wrong in society has a responsibility to help change it, man, woman or child. We will never right all the wrongs in the world but we can begin by loving ourselves and showing our children how important that is. If a person truly loves themselves they will love others, not for the clothes they wear, their body type or the way they wear their hair.

Self love is the most important kind of love. When a child loves themselves they make healthy decisions that are in their best interests as an expression of how they feel about themselves. People with no self worth make bad choices inviting people into their lives that can do them harm.

I could rant on about this for hours. I have a teenage daughter that I have to constantly prepare for the big bad world. I have found that the two best ways to teach my daughter how to love herself are:

A) Love myself. Show her I love who I am, with all my quirks and flaws, I embrace all that I am.

B) Love her. Love her enough to say no to her and have her dislike me, show her boundaries and teach her right from wrong. Love her even when I don’t like her much. Focus on the qualities that make her beautiful, her kindness, her enthusiasm, her compassion, her desire to help others. Teach her that happiness is beautiful and that true beauty shines through perceived flaws.

“Wherever you are in life be the soul of that place. The first step in changing society is changing yourself and realizing that imperfect is perfect. Beauty is everywhere and it can’t often be seen with your eyes but it sure can be felt with the heart. Be the light in a world of darkness…that will be amazing. ♥”

Thousand Acre Heart Part 17 Grown ups

It seems like it happened overnight, the carefree party girl, work to party,  party to live had grown up. Paying a mortgage and reading bedtime stories quickly takes precedence over dancing on speakers at the local nightclub.  Days turn into weeks, fade into monthes and before you know it years have passed in the blink of an eye.

I was in Nova Scotia for a visit when my baby boy officially turned into a “grown up” Unofficially he was just a boy under an adult label celebrating the right of passage otherwise known as “the legal age to drink” Generally celebrated at a bar with your inebriated “of age” friends and way too many suggestively named shooters! It was our last night in Truro and all of our friends were going out boozing at the old haunts. Chevys, Engine Room, The Mill. A fight ensued with my husband when I refused to go siting my dislike of bars. He begged me to make an exception and spend that last night before flying back to Edmonton partying with our friends. How could I explain that I could not party on this day. I was certain that my son would be out celebrating his birthday and his graduation into “legal drinking” I was certain I couldn’t help but look for him in every handsome dark haired young man, and even more certain that if I saw him I would know. What I wasn’t certain of was how I would react if I did in fact see the boy I had given birth to, here in Truro, nineteen years ago. So instead of trying to explain I sullenly refused to budge and spent the last night in my hometown with my parents, just as it should be.

On the long flight home Kirk badgered me into telling him why I wouldn’t come out. He was apologetic and understanding but I am positive that he couldn’t quite understand the depth of my feelings. I don’t think anyone but a mom who had given up a child for adoption could begin to.

That being said when we returned to our lives in Edmonton he questioned me further. He knew about the dog earred form facilitating a reunion that I carried around for the past nineteen years. He knew about the letter, a response from Jeffreys mom when he was a baby that had moved from purse to purse since I was a teenager. He knew about the void in my heart that no amount of love from him or the girls could ever fill.

He encouraged me to make the call to the number on the form. He did so delicately at first and I put it off and made all sorts of excuses. There was a storm raging in my heart and he recognized that but he didn’t understand.  Jeffrey was of age now and I could search for him. Why the hesitation?

I had thought about this for nineteen years and thought of almost every imaginable outcome. The one outcome I  never imagined but would now be forced to face was what if he had no desire to know about me. What if I never crossed his mind. What if the closure I hoped for all these years ended with a tightly closed door. I would have no other choice but to accept it. Bear it and respect his wishes. My heart was not quite yet prepared for that scenario.

It took some time, patience and love but with Kirks blessing and encouragement I made the call to Halifax Social Services and was put in touch with an updeat and realistic woman named Christine.

Christine quickly became my lifeline. She spoke to me as directly as possible but her tone was never condesending or negative. She told me the steps involved with the process and allowed my hopefulness but encouraged my cautiousness. The one thing she insisted upon was my patience.

I explained that my children did not know about Jeffrey and she said I should not tell them. If this didn’t go anywhere I would be giving them something and taking it away.

Christine called me almost immediately and let me know that they had an address for Jeffrey on file. She referred to him as Jeremy as I always did because that was the name I gave him. I had made a package with a letter I wrote to him and some pictures of all of us. I wanted him to see us, see that we were real and desperately wanted to know him.

Christine sent a  letter to him explaining that she had some information for him. He was asked to contact the office.

Things were moving a lot quicker then I anticipated which was good but dizzying.  I was transported back to a time when I was sixteen years old. I was in contact with Jeffreys biological father. We had maintained contact for over twenty years, I considered him a good friend. That would change but in my heart I thought he deserved the opportunity to be included. I was up and down like a teeter totter.

I was on the verge of tears constantly. The poor girls were confused because mommy was a basket case. I had to sit down with my bosses and explain why I could barely talk most days.

Christine told me that adopted boys are much less anxious then girls to make contact  with their biological families or at the very least they ponder it awhile before ever thinking seriously about calling.

She said six weeks after the initial letter she would send a Registered follow up letter. That way he would have to sign for it and we would know for certain that he had it in his possession.  She shared with me scenarios good and bad and everything in between to help prepare my heart. I remember the one possibility that I found implausible was that we would meet, not feel any reason to pursue or continue a relationship,  he may not be a good and decent person worthy if being in our lives. I had to consider it but I couldn’t fathom it.

I convinced myself to calm down a little. I was having heart flutters, insomnia,  episodes of euphoria followed by the lowest of lows. I needed to go back to being a Mom and a wife and wait patiently.

About three weeks later I came home from work and I had an important call from Christine.  She left an excitable message on my answering machine but her office was closed by the time I got it. (3 hour time difference 😦 )

We played phone tag for three days until I was finally able to contact Christine. It was about 5:30 am for me and I was laying in the bed that I had tossed and turned in and remained sleepless for days. Christine was about to change my life.

To be continued. …

Thousand Acre Heart Part 13- OH BILLY

A message I painted in my kitchen as a reminder to my family that they don’t have to be ordinary. Never be afraid to be extraordinary!!

OH BILLY

*bilirubin

[bil′iro̅o̅′bin]

Etymology: L, bilis + ruber, red

the orange-yellow pigment of bile, formed principally by the breakdown of hemoglobin in red blood cells after termination of their normal lifespan. Water-insoluble unconjugated bilirubin normally travels in the bloodstream to the liver, where it is converted to a water-soluble, conjugated form and excreted into the bile. In a healthy person, about 250 mg of bilirubin is produced daily. The majority of bilirubin is excreted in the stool. The characteristic yellow pallor of jaundice is caused by the accumulation of bilirubin in the blood and in the tissues of the skin. Testing for bilirubin in the blood provides information for diagnosis and evaluation of liver disease, biliary obstruction, and hemolytic anemia. Normal levels of total bilirubin are 0.1 to 1 mg/dl or 5.1 to 17 μmol/L.

I love the springtime when everything is fresh and new, trees are budding and color is being restored to the world. The anticipation of Spring is not unlike having a new baby. You experience all the stages and although full bloom is perfection you secretly want to enjoy each stage as long as possible.

We brought Haley home in the Spring.  The second week of May. She had to spend some extra time in the hospital due to sheer incompetence.  I had a male nurse who seemed like he was playing the part of a nurse in a reality show, and certainly not a good one!! I didn’t breastfeed with Morgan so on top of the fact that it was near impossible to try to breastfeed a jaundiced, sleeping baby I had lots of questions. The only answer I got from my nurse was a confused look followed by a muttered “You will be fine” as he walked out the door. The extent of his check ups were to awkwardly lift my blanket just to drop it as quickly and say “You are OK…right!?” I felt more then a little uneasy with him and suggested that maybe I could have a nurse that was familiar with breastfeeding. He ignored this request with a blank stare. I felt that he was not anxious for anyone else to know about his extreme shortcomings in his chosen profession. I felt slightly sorry for him until he dropped the ball in a very big way. My doctor left explicit instructions when he left for the weekend that if  Haley’s “billy” levels were up that she was to be put under the lights immediately.  The instructions were communicated to the ward staff, to me, and noted on my chart. It was cut and dry! When Haley’s test results came back with the inevitable news that her “billy” levels were elevated the course of action was clear. I am not a medical professional but I had been through this with Morgan and I understood the importance of getting her under the lights as soon as possible. Nurse Dolittle and I did not share the same of urgency in regards. I inquired about the lights, asked about the lights, insisted upon the lights, demanded the lights, but to each action I got the same result one would get from banging their head against a wall repeatedly. Upon my repeated insistence I was told the lights were in a construction area and could not be accessed. I asked for a doctor, another nurse, a passerby but my best option was hoping for a sunny day to sit her in the window. I left a note for my favorite nurse Beth at the nurses station. Beth had assisted with all my children’s births and she was amazing.  Unfortunately she had the weekend off. She woke me at 5 am Monday and I anxiously recounted my plight. I had spent a very stressed out weekend and I was as happy to see her as a five year old waking to find Santa. She assessed the situation in her head for mere seconds before heading out the door so fast her Super Nurse cape got stuck in the door. She returned quickly with a beautiful set of lights. She downplayed her Super Nurse skills when asked how she managed by replying, ” I lifted the plastic divider, I crawled under, I wheeled the lights out” So simple, so awesome. We both knew the damage was done though. If your broker calls and tells you to sell failing stock you don’t wait for three days and then wonder about the huge loss. There was time to make up so initially Haley was under the lights around the clock. Her “billy” levels needed to be brought down and she had continued to lose weight. I was scared and distraught. I can’t imagine how parents of children in Neo Natal must feel waiting for the tiniest of milestones. I just wanted to bring my girl home. I knew that even if the “billy” levels stabilized that Dr. Chalmers would never allow me to take her home until she gained weight. The nurses suggested taking Haley to their station so I could get some rest but I insisted she stay with me florescent lights and all! Breastfeeding continued to be an impossible challenge as Haley was too sleepy to bother with eating. If I managed to get her latched on she would fall asleep quite quickly and I would doze off and feel all sorts of guilty. I was fixated on getting her to eat as it was about the only thing I had any control over but my attempts proved to be pretty futile.  Luckily for me I never saw Nurse Dolittle again and I was blessed with a team of exceptional nurses to keep me calm and informed. There was a senior nurse on the Ward who appeared looming and more then a little scary. Her assistance was sought in getting Haley to eat. Her demeanor, at first overbearing, won me over and I knew quite quickly that deep down she was a soft nut in a tough shell. They hooked me up to a breast pump which could better be described as an industrial milking machine. It milked me, I bottled the goods and Nurse Notsoscary would coax precious Haley into eating little by little. She managed to get more into her in one feeding then myself and all the other nurses had for days. I felt the promise of progress. The steps were little but the more Haley ate and the more time she spent under the lights I was able to get her to feed here and there for short periods of time. I am thinking back to how incredibly delicate she seemed, tiny featured and curled up in the fetal sleeping position. I can vividly recall the news that she had began to gain weight. I was elated! It was a slight amount but it is the step we were all waiting for.  The next day I had our bags packed and I was ready and excited to go home when Dr. Chalmers popped in for rounds. He was happy for the progress but not satisfied with her “Billy” levels just yet. This game continued for several days where I would have us packed and ready and Dr. Chalmers would inform me “Not Yet” He agreed to release me but Haley had to stay. I wasn’t about to leave without her! One cheerfully sunny Friday Dr. Chalmers was feeling generous and noting with familiarity my packed bags he offered a compromise. Haley and I could go home if we agreed to come into the hospital everyday to get her blood work taken. The hospital was a fair jaunt for us but at that point I would have agreed to come to the hospital three times a day. I WAS FREE!!! FREE from four months of hospitals and FREE to go home with my family!

 

Haley performing Doll on a Music Box at Edmonton’s 2013 Kiwanis Musicfest Junior Musical Theatre

Thousand Acre Heart-Part 12

I am eating cookies in bed, that is how my day went. After a long day I was relaxing and chatting with Kirk online (he is up North in Kearl Lake). We were both in a playful mood, our conversation was very fun and flirty until Morgan informed me that the coldroom and laundry room was flooded. Instant buzz kill. It was pretty tense here for awhile but equipped with Kirks snowmobile boots, a fire poker 40 soaking towells and my phone (for frantically texting Kirk) I managed to fix the pump and twart any further disaster.  I am not happy about the mess but on the bright side, because of the floor drain in the laundry room the main rec room area was not affected and being forced to clean out the cold room is a good thing. See Kirk I am not even going to mention who filled the cold room with unnecessary crap!!

So to continue where I left you I frantically called Kirk and told him to get there fast and then I called my Mom. Dr Clague said they would induce me at 5:30. Between 5:30 and 6:30 nothing was happening. We were all just joking around with the nurses. At 6:30 I started to feel a significant amount of discomfort and got quiet immediately. I threw up in the bathroom which was a sure sign of hard labour. When the contactions began they were one on top of another. In the same fashion as my other pregnancies I went from zero to sixty in minutes. I guess Kirk mistook my sudden silence for boredom because he said to the nurse “when does labor start?” I was breathing mid contraction and looked at the nurse wide-eyed as if to say “is he friggin kidding me?

The nurse asked Kirk if there was somewhere he needed to be. Poor Kirk had missed Morgans birth so he really just didn’t know what to expect. All he had really seen of actual labour was exaggerated on tv and in movies.

He was great at keeping cold wash clothes on my forehead. It was unbearably warm and trying to keep me cool was a full time job for Mom and Kirk. I started pushing shortly after seven. I was expecting Haley to come into the world in a few pushes. I was getting the regular encouragement “she’s right there, we see her head, she’s coming” I was pushing for everything I was worth. Let’s just say if pushing were an Olympic sport I was going for gold. I thought that Kirk should go to the other side of the room prepared to catch. I pictured her flying across the room like a football.

I recall the doctor saying something about her being stuck. I remember thinking WTF does that mean? I wanted to ask but could barely muster a breath between contractions let alone a question. Turns out her umbilical chord was wrapped around her neck. Once removed she made a speedy entry into our world! Haley Jade Catherine DeBay was born @ 7:45 pm on April 29, 2004.

She was healthy but earlier then the doctors had originally thought and in a certain amount of distress from me pushing with a chord wrapped around her. She was creamy white…full of vermix. She looked like someone had slathered her up with cold cream. She had a headful of dark curls and a beautiful button nose.

Our first picture with her she is in an incubator. I felt completly different about her then I had with Morgan and Jeffrey initially. I felt very protective, I guess that is definitely a parental trait but it lacked that warm and fuzzy feeling because I so badly wanted to make her strong enough to bring her home. I am sure anyone who has ever had a preemie has felt this on a much larger scale. Her first month, even after bringing her home she was so sleepy I had to wake her for feedings and coax her to feed. It felt like a job. She didn’t look at me, she didn’t brighten at the sound of my voice. I silently worried a lot about not bonding with her the way I did Morgan. After the first four weeks once I chubbed her up and she became more alert things changed instantly. She has been an ongoing joy!

I always felt very differently about my girls. Morgan in glorious teenhood likes to say we love Haley more, we always take her side. Truth is I love Haley differently then I do Morgan. She has always been smart and fiercely independent. She has a very analytical mind like her Dad. Morgan is softer, led more by her heart. As smart as she is I worry about her being led astray by her caring and trusting ways. I want her to know how beautiful she is. I want her know that she is smart and that she can be anything she wants. I want her to know that SHE is the person to impress and please. I want her not to seek validation from friends and boys. I want her to pat herself on the back for a job well done and when she fails I want her to have the strength to get back up and try again. Haley at 9 has these tools. She hasn’t let the world beat her down. She told me one day that she will never be able to please everyone but she is happy being herself. Jeffrey and Morgan are a lot alike. They know what they want and they can dream a life for themselves but sometimes overlook the harsh realities that can get in the way of those dreams. Dreams take hard work to make them happen! I heard a saying recently about a mothers constant challenge “the right mix of kindness and dicipline” I think all of my children will agree that I can be a good and fun friend but I will never sugar coat the realties of life!! Life is hard. Prepare!!

This is short and I apologize. I am catching up from a whirlwind visit with my family in Nova Scotia and my new granddaughter. Sometimes I still have to pinch myself to see if it is all real.

P.S for those of you twitterbugs, follow @1000acreheart

Thanks for dropping by, be back soon. I will leave you with a sneak peek of beautiful Gracie. ♥