Posts Tagged ‘pain’

11:15 pm. I am laying in bed watching a movie featuring a gloriously good looking young man. I have to get up at 5:30am but I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, smushing my pillow this way and that under my head. I search for the cool spots on the bed with no luck, but I still keep our blanket covering most of me. I always sleep like that.

A familiar tingle runs up my spine and I pray that this wasn’t going to turn into a full blown panic attack. I feel my heart begin to speed up and I throw the covers off and sit on the edge of the bed, attempting to get my body back into control. I stand up and walk halfway down the hallway to the room that holds the two innocent lives that I am responsible for. I have to keep my shit together…I can’t lose it until someone else is here with them. I turn back and go into my bathroom instead, holding on to the counter for dear life. I look up into my reflection and see sheer terror in my eyes. I try to tell myself that I have felt like this before and didn’t die…but my head doesn’t listen. Everything in my body screams that this time is different. This time I will die.

I wish Jim was home.

I go down the stairs and turn the air conditioning up a few notches. I slowly walk back up the steps, trying to keep my heart rate from going any higher than it already is. My cell phone is tightly clenched in my fist, I need to have it near me in case I need it. I am headed back into my room when I decide to go in and look at the boys.

I step over the gate at their door and enter their room. I walk over to Jimmy’s crib first and gently rest my hand on his back. He arches against my hand and scoots his legs under his body bringing his little booty up in the air. I toss a light blanket over him and move on to Chase.

Chase has fallen asleep with 3 Matchbox Cars and a portion of their track. I pull all the toys out of his bed and slowly ease down beside him in his twin bed. Laying flat emphasizes how fast my heart is beating and my body is dying to get up. To move. To pace. Anything. I don’t move. I stay there and concentrate on the up and down of Chase’s chest. I concentrate on the warm weight of his head on my shoulder. I concentrate on them and once again, like so many other times, they save me.

When I was pregnant with Chase I spent HOURS online pouring over bedding, swings, bouncers, clothes and last but not least…the car seat/stroller combo. I won’t lie…I bought the car seat I did because it matched the pattern I had picked for the swing and pack-n-play. Luckily, it was a good seat and had the specifications on it that I would come to appreciate as I educated myself more.

When Chase was about 6 months old I found myself abruptly educated to the idea of extended rear facing. A friend of mine was in a bad accident and her son, 13 months old, was severely injured. He met the minimums to be forward facing (20lbs AND one year) and she had turned him on his first birthday thinking it was something fun and exciting to do. After the accident the doctors told her that had he still been rear facing, his injuries would have been minimal. Colin made it though the accident and after spending months in a halo he came home. She has become one of the most staunch rear facing advocates and begged me to leave Chase rear facing until he HAD to be turned.

There are tons of technical reasons why rear facing is safer for little people. The easiest way to explain it is that the bones in the neck don’t fuse completely until right around the age of 3. This leaves toddlers wide open for internal decapitation and a whole host of other spinal issues, especially due to their head to body proportions. Also, rear facing takes the force off of front end collisions. Yes, people get rear ended too…but head on and side impact accidents are so much more dangerous and generally more severe.

Last year the American Academy of Pediatrics stated that infants and toddlers were 75% more likely to be seriously injured or killed in a forward facing seat. They put out an official recommendation that children stay rear facing until the age of two.

That right there has been enough for me.

Chase was happily rear facing in a First Years True Fit until he turned two and hit the weight limit on his seat for rear facing(35lbs). Chase is in the 90th percentile for height and was quite comfortable. He sat cross legged in his seat, and to this day he still asks to sit in Jimmy’s seat, which is currently rear faced.

Jimmy is also rear facing in a True Fit and at 23lbs, he will be that way until he hits the weight or height limit.

There have been times when I considered turning them earlier. It is easier on the parent to have them facing forward…you can see them and hand things to them so much easier. My family thought I was nuts and some of them probably still do.

I don’t care.  I want to see them play outside. I want to see them splash in the tub. I want to see them color and blow bubbles. I don’t want to see them in a halo with pins in their head. I don’t want to see them in years of physical therapy.

I feel there are so many things I don’t have any control over in my children’s safety. This is one thing I can do to help keep them safe.

What about you? What works for your family?

*Anyone with any car seat questions, feel free to email me. I’ll answer any installation questions I can!*

I have always kept a journal. You should see them, my teenage years jotted down in so many different gel tipped inks. I was impulsive and boy crazy and free. I wrote everything that came to my mind, there was no censorship in the tattered wire bound books that I hid in my room.

As I got older and moved out of my parent’s home I still wrote. It wasn’t a daily journal at that point, but more of an event recorder. When I was through the roof happy? I wrote. When I was scraping myself off the floor of addiction and depression? I wrote then too.

I don’t have a tangible journal anymore. I just have this blog. I think that needs to change. There are things that I need to get out. Things that wouldn’t be fair to put here…because it isn’t just about me. Things that are brewing and threatening to overflow if I don’t release some of the pressure. This blog isn’t always a happy place, my life isn’t unicorns and rainbows…but sometimes you just need a place to put your thoughts that aren’t fully formed. A place to work out what you are actually thinking. This isn’t that place to me.

This is the place for me to share my life and my stories and my opinions. A place to show support to my friends and have some fun. A place to ask for help sometimes too.

So I am going to go buy a notebook, wire bound preferably. I am going to sit down and just write. Screw punctuation and grammar and spell check. There is a huge jumbled mess in my head that needs to come out.

I’m going to let it out.

I almost stayed off the internet today.

I almost didn’t write this post.

I know there are going to be literally hundreds of tributes just like this one popping up all over the world today…but I couldn’t let the day go by without acknowledging it, as much as I wish I didn’t need to.

Maddie has been gone a year.

Unbelievable.

Heather and Mike:

I am so ridiculously sorry for your loss. You are both amazing people…and you deserved a million more years with Maddie. Thank you for having the courage to continue to share her and yourselves with us. Thank you for letting me be a small part of Friends of Maddie, it has been an amazing experience to be a part of her legacy.

Maddie:

You are so missed and SO loved, baby girl. Thank you for being the deliciously wonderful little person that you are and inspiring all of us to love you. My life is fuller having known you.

xoxoxo

*Please consider donating to Friends of Maddie and help ease the transition of a family with a baby in the NICU*

I have an appointment next Monday that I have been putting off for a long time.

The Dermatologist.

When I was pregnant with Chase my skin went through some caaaa-razy changes. I stressed over each and every one at first, and then pretty  much just started ignoring all of them. Ya know…skin tags, blotches..all that highly glamorous stuff women deal with while growing a human.

However there was one skin occurance that was worrisome to me. A small lesion appeared on my chest, right between the ladies. When I say small..I mean SMALL. It is completely flesh colored, and much easier to feel than see. Over the last two years it has gotten bigger, but is still very small. There are actually three very small lesions of the same type there now. This is an area that I had frequent sunburns as a kid.

I ignored it and ignored it because that’s what I do.I don’t like going to the doctor and I like it even less when something could actually be wrong. I try to keep my head from running to the worst possible scenario but it does anyway. Google is not helping the situation at all, and for someone prone to panic attacks this is really just setting me over the edge.

I am praying that Dr.Skin has an answer for me. I am hoping there is something that he can tell me before he chops off a piece of my skin to be biopsied. If I have to wait for results with no indication of what is going on, I might truly lose it. I really don’t have it in me to deal with this. I’m emotionally exhausted and I can’t stop thinking about it.

What if I let it go too long?

What if it is cancer?

What will I do?

So people, I am asking for something I have never asked for before. I never thought I would ever ask anyone to do this for me.

PRAY.

Pray it’s a wart.

I understood. At least I thought I did. I stood in the living room of our Bishop’s home and watched him unite my brother and his bride in marriage, her 4 year old daughter and their newborn son in attendance. I knew that he was going away, I knew he had done things wrong and this was his payment.

The wedding was short and we went to a quick lunch after. I said goodbye and that I would see him tomorrow. He held on to me a bit longer than normal in our goodbye hug and I buried my face in his neck. I loved my big brother fiercely. He was my comrade against my parents, he was my playmate. Even though he was more than seven years older than me, he made time for me always. Other’s were scared of him but I knew he would never hurt me. My thirteen year old brain strained to understand the enormity of time in front of me. I gave him a peck on the cheek and turned to go and he swatted at the back of my head, which was normal behavior for us. He always had to whack at me when I turned my back.

The next morning after breakfast I asked my Mother when we were going to see him. She didn’t answer me and my Father told me he was already gone. I stared at them, not understanding. I was supposed to be able to go and say goodbye again. I ran towards my room, tripping in the hallway between our rooms. I didn’t bother to get up instead I stayed there, sobbing as though my heart was breaking. It was breaking.

I don’t know how long I lay there, hiccuping with tears running down my face. I eventually got up and went into his room, my breath caught in my chest and I couldn’t move for a moment, my senses taken over by him. I turned and ran out.

I asked my parents every weekend to take me to see him. They called the prison and were informed I wasn’t on his “list” so I wouldn’t be allowed in to visit. I cursed him for that. I finally received a letter from him, and in it he explained he didn’t want me to see him in prison. I didn’t understand the logic. I had seen him at the county prison numerous times, why was this different? I never really got an answer to this.

The next time I saw my brother I was almost 19 years old. I pulled into work and saw a huge man standing beside my parents van. I parked my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I took a deep breath and got out of the car.

I took a few steps toward him and then started running. I slammed into him with everything I had, wrapping my arms around his neck. He picked me up and swung me around, while my co-workers watched from the windows with curiosity. I didn’t let go for a long time.

I was so happy he was home…and I’m beyond happy he still is.

I don’t know why it even surprises me anymore.

Our community is strong.

The first time I saw it in action was after the passing of Heather and Mike’s sweet baby girl Maddie. I was a newborn to the blogging world and twitter, just dipping my toes in the social media world after years of Myspace and Facebook. The outpouring of love for this young family that was going through the unthinkable was quick and true. 

  We love you and we are going to find someway to help the best we can

This is the message that has been spread. People show their love and support through blog posts, hundreds and hundreds of them.  When Mckmama’s warrior Stellan has headed to the hospital in critical condition multiple times over the last few months, the response has been the same.

We support you and want you to know you aren’t fighting alone.

Messages on Twitter are re-tweeted, and updates spread like wildfire. No one is left out of the loop. Everyone has an equal investment in the pain. No one dares suggest that because we are “only friends on the Internet” that we shouldn’t be upset. My own husband has given up trying to understand, as he watches me read “The Spohrs Are Multiplying” every morning, most days tears and laughter emitting from me together.

Our community is loving.

Anissa is a fabulous woman. I have only had the pleasure of direct interaction with her a handful of times, but over the course of my day she makes me laugh more than anyone on the interwebs. She is caring, strong, hilarious, gentle when needed, and quick….so quick to jump when a friend needs her.

She needs us. Anissa suffered a stroke yesterday and needs prayers if you’re the praying type, or just general good juju is you’re not. Gather up all the positive energy in your mind and send it towards an ICU bed in Atlanta.

Anissa, I am so hoping for a wonderful recovery for you. I fully expect you to be back and eating kittens soon.

**For updates and ways to help, please visit the Aiming Low website.**

I love Christmas. I love getting our tree. I love unwrapping ornaments and hanging them. I love Christmas music. I love hunting down the perfect dated ornament each year. I love all the cheesy Christmas movies that are on.  I love driving around and looking at lights. I love shopping.

I especially loved the look on Chase’s face last year when he came downstairs on Christmas morning.

We made the Holidays a big deal last year. I was 6 weeks or so from my due date, and we really wanted to make it special for Chase. I’m so glad we did, since I got put on bed rest on New Years Eve and couldn’t do anything with him.

He got new blocks, and has been obsessed with building ever since. (Please ignore my prego-ness)

His Auntie Jessa got him this tent, his smile says it all.

Later, at MomMom and PopPop’s he played with his “cousin” Ammo.

In a very sweet moment, Chase’s Great PopPop played the piano with him.

Last Christmas was special for so many reasons. It was our last holiday as a family of 3. It was Chase’s first “real” Christmas.

Last year four generations of men in our family celebrated.

This year there will be only three.

We love and miss you PopPop D.

I don’t write anymore.

This isn’t writing, at least not for me. I used to really write. It was effortless, my pen would touch my notebook and the words would pour out of me. I would read it over and almost not believe that the perfectly intertwined thoughts had actually made their way out of my head.

I miss it. I think a lot about what has changed, why I can’t ever seem to make anything sound right to me. Sometimes I think it is because I rarely sit down with pen and paper. Sometimes I think it is because I don’t get any time to really sit and think.

Mostly I think it is because I am happy.

The writing that I am most proud of came during some of my darkest times. It was born of heartbreak and misery. It was written with tears in my eyes and a shaking hand. It was written in fierce anger, my teeth tearing at my bottom lip. It was written faster than I even knew I was thinking, my mind almost numb while tying to protect itself.

I don’t live with those feelings that inspired some of my best anymore. I have put them behind me, not forgotten but closed in a room I have no reason to visit.  I am not on a ship in a rocky sea, trying so hard to hang on. I am stable and I have both my feet planted on solid ground. I am happy. I am loved.

It’s a fair trade, but I still miss it.

Get out of my head

You don’t belong there

I don’t want you

I think of you often

Random times throughout my day

Makes me pause

Wonder why

You have invaded my thoughts

I can’t let go

But your already gone

Feels like yesterday

Still

Burns

Still

The hole in my heart is there

Still

Get out of my head

You don’t belong there

I shouldn’t want you