Thursday, July 16, 2009
Courage
Almost 4 years ago Greyson was born. When he came into this world far too early and we set up house in the Northside NICU, the great people at PPP (Parents Partnered for Preemies) gave us a little gift basket. Included were some hand-made preemie clothes, a small doll, and a camera. The camera was suppose to be for the nurses to take pictures of cute things that Greyson did when we weren't there and as he changed isolettes and nurses the camera followed.
One August afternoon I went to the hospital alone and sat by his isolette. I don't know what it was, perhaps mother's intuition or just the feelings that I couldn't keep back anymore but when Sunny, our nurse, asked me if I was OK I said no and began to weep. She asked again what was wrong and I told her that I was afraid that Greyson was going to die. She sat with me for a long time and just let me cry. When I had let it all out she got Greyson out of the isolette and told me to hold him and to love him. She got the camera out and took our picture and then let us be. I held him for the longest time and I can still remember the way he smelled and felt in my arms. I tried so hard to burn his image/that moment into my mind.
That night at 3AM the phone rang. It was the hospital calling to tell us the Greyson had NEC and was more than likely not going to make it. The images of that night and the next few days still haunt me. I wake up nights with memories of seeing him in that hospital with more nurses and doctors and tubes in him than you can imagine.
We were then transferred to Scottish Rite and Greyson's little basket followed him there. We finished off that roll of film with happier pictures - the first time we got to hold him after surgery, the first time we got to play with him on the floor. But when it came time to actually develop the film I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to relive that day and that night again. So the camera sat. When we moved to Nashville it rode in the car with me along with our most prized possessions. I put it in our desk upstairs and have looked at it every day for the past 4 years. I have tried so many times to take it in and I have found excuse after excuse not to. People say that time heals all wounds - well to me, that night and the outcome that for all intents should have happened is still as fresh to me as if it happened yesterday.
But today something changed - I can't tell you what or why. I took it in and got it developed. I stared at the envelope of pictures a long time in my car before opening up and cried for a good while after I did. How a picture can scare you so much I don't quite understand.
Maybe this is my first step in letting go a little. After all, I have a happy, healthy almost 4 year old who no one can tell is any different than any other kid around, except for his scar across his abdomen.
There is another old addage - you never know what you have til its gone. While we didn't lose Greyson we came closer than anyone ever should. I now know what I have and perhaps when I get frustrated because he doesn't listen or spills the milk this picture will remind me of what really is important.
One August afternoon I went to the hospital alone and sat by his isolette. I don't know what it was, perhaps mother's intuition or just the feelings that I couldn't keep back anymore but when Sunny, our nurse, asked me if I was OK I said no and began to weep. She asked again what was wrong and I told her that I was afraid that Greyson was going to die. She sat with me for a long time and just let me cry. When I had let it all out she got Greyson out of the isolette and told me to hold him and to love him. She got the camera out and took our picture and then let us be. I held him for the longest time and I can still remember the way he smelled and felt in my arms. I tried so hard to burn his image/that moment into my mind.
That night at 3AM the phone rang. It was the hospital calling to tell us the Greyson had NEC and was more than likely not going to make it. The images of that night and the next few days still haunt me. I wake up nights with memories of seeing him in that hospital with more nurses and doctors and tubes in him than you can imagine.
We were then transferred to Scottish Rite and Greyson's little basket followed him there. We finished off that roll of film with happier pictures - the first time we got to hold him after surgery, the first time we got to play with him on the floor. But when it came time to actually develop the film I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to relive that day and that night again. So the camera sat. When we moved to Nashville it rode in the car with me along with our most prized possessions. I put it in our desk upstairs and have looked at it every day for the past 4 years. I have tried so many times to take it in and I have found excuse after excuse not to. People say that time heals all wounds - well to me, that night and the outcome that for all intents should have happened is still as fresh to me as if it happened yesterday.
But today something changed - I can't tell you what or why. I took it in and got it developed. I stared at the envelope of pictures a long time in my car before opening up and cried for a good while after I did. How a picture can scare you so much I don't quite understand.
Maybe this is my first step in letting go a little. After all, I have a happy, healthy almost 4 year old who no one can tell is any different than any other kid around, except for his scar across his abdomen.
There is another old addage - you never know what you have til its gone. While we didn't lose Greyson we came closer than anyone ever should. I now know what I have and perhaps when I get frustrated because he doesn't listen or spills the milk this picture will remind me of what really is important.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Cheap Date
Best $3 I ever spent - three very cheap spray bottles for an afternoon of spray bottle tag. It cooled us off, kept us occupied and wore us out.
Amy Winehouse Fans
9 times out of 10 Raif and I can figure out where our kids come up with their little phrases or idioms. This time we are stumped. We have talked to their teachers - they are clueless. They don't watch TV so they couldn't have picked it up there. We are just drawing blanks. So what is causing so much consternation...... overdose.
They use it in reference to things overflowing. "Mommy, don't overdose my milk" or "Greyson watch me overdose this watering can." But they also think that the word is the funniest thing going. Every time they say it they both burst into fits of laughter. Today when I filled up my water glass they told me "Mommy don't overdose." Sweet - can't wait til they say that to the next waiter who refills my martini at our table.
They use it in reference to things overflowing. "Mommy, don't overdose my milk" or "Greyson watch me overdose this watering can." But they also think that the word is the funniest thing going. Every time they say it they both burst into fits of laughter. Today when I filled up my water glass they told me "Mommy don't overdose." Sweet - can't wait til they say that to the next waiter who refills my martini at our table.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A New Chapter...
Well, Raif left this afternoon for another week long business trip - this time in the ever exciting Tyler TX. Hmmm - Raif in TX in the summer, having to wear a suit every day, for a week - he is going to be grumpy (and hot) when he gets back.
Raif's absence always presents a challenge for me at home. I have to juggle all the tasks that Raif helps me with - he entertains while I cook dinner; he puts Greyson to bed while I do Quinn's bedtime routine; he helps get the kids dressed and fed in the morning. Plus I also have to manage the sadness and tears as the week progresses the more and more they miss Daddy.
So when Daddy is gone we try to do a lot of fun things like going to park and making our own pizzas for dinner hoping that eases the sadness a bit (and helps my sanity). Well this week I am going to try something new: chapter books at bedtime. I picked up the first Magic Tree House book this week. Hopefully, looking forward to 'what happens next' will help the week go by a bit faster and a little easier for all. I will let you know how it works.
Raif's absence always presents a challenge for me at home. I have to juggle all the tasks that Raif helps me with - he entertains while I cook dinner; he puts Greyson to bed while I do Quinn's bedtime routine; he helps get the kids dressed and fed in the morning. Plus I also have to manage the sadness and tears as the week progresses the more and more they miss Daddy.
So when Daddy is gone we try to do a lot of fun things like going to park and making our own pizzas for dinner hoping that eases the sadness a bit (and helps my sanity). Well this week I am going to try something new: chapter books at bedtime. I picked up the first Magic Tree House book this week. Hopefully, looking forward to 'what happens next' will help the week go by a bit faster and a little easier for all. I will let you know how it works.
Friday, July 10, 2009
You are Never to Old to Learn
I think one of the worst things about becoming an adult is losing the ability to realize what is fun. There are so many opportunities out there that we just let slip by unknowingly either because we have forgotten it was fun or society tells us it isn't. Thankfully though we have children that sometimes know a lot more than we do.
Last Sunday we took the kids and the dogs for a walk and as we turned for home the skies darkened and it looked like rain. Raif and I instinctively picked up the pace and ushered everyone back home before the heavens opened up. As I was silently lamenting the rain and wondering what I was going to do with the kids all afternoon cooped up in the house I asked myself why they really needed to be inside. It was 85 degrees outside - had it been a sunny day we would have been at the pool. Why did it matter? As adults we hate the rain because it ruins hair and makes your clothes sticky. As kids, the rain is magical and a whole hell of a lot of fun. So I threw caution into the wind and took the kids outside to play in the storm (no Grandma and Nini there wasn't any lightening). We rode bikes and scooters and Quinn and I played ballerina and danced. We drank the rain and laughed and splashed and chased each other all over creation. I haven't had that much fun with the kids in awhile. Yes, my hair was a mess and my clothes were pasted to me and surprisingly I couldn't have cared less.
Last Sunday we took the kids and the dogs for a walk and as we turned for home the skies darkened and it looked like rain. Raif and I instinctively picked up the pace and ushered everyone back home before the heavens opened up. As I was silently lamenting the rain and wondering what I was going to do with the kids all afternoon cooped up in the house I asked myself why they really needed to be inside. It was 85 degrees outside - had it been a sunny day we would have been at the pool. Why did it matter? As adults we hate the rain because it ruins hair and makes your clothes sticky. As kids, the rain is magical and a whole hell of a lot of fun. So I threw caution into the wind and took the kids outside to play in the storm (no Grandma and Nini there wasn't any lightening). We rode bikes and scooters and Quinn and I played ballerina and danced. We drank the rain and laughed and splashed and chased each other all over creation. I haven't had that much fun with the kids in awhile. Yes, my hair was a mess and my clothes were pasted to me and surprisingly I couldn't have cared less.
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