Spinning Yellow

To Everything, Turn, Turn, There is a Season, Turn, Turn

Hey there!  So ... how was your summer?  Yeah?  That's good.  Oh, me?  Well, mine was really crazy.  It started out really great.  Then got kind of mixed up and sad and lost.  Then stress and anxiety flooded in.  And stayed awhile.  It has been long.  And yet, I am not ready for it to be over.

We've been busy, in a good way, going from one event to another.  Here's a quick review:

Our winter of sickness turned into a spring full of angst.  Once summer started and all the end-of-the-school-year nonsense (too many parties, special events, lack of routine, Scott even said at one point, "I don't want another pizza party, I just want a regular day!") was over, the stress level in our house went way down.  Plus I was in a zen-momma, just turned 40, mode of living in the moment and enjoying having my kids around. 

We had a pre-July 4th party with two of my friends from college and their families (which included "the three little trip-a-lets", as Jane calls them).  At the same time we settled into a nice routine of attending swim lessons in the morning, hanging out at the park, running errands, chilling out at home, reading Harry Potter and doing workbooks.  We girly-ed up some old furniture for Jane's room by painting it pink and purple.  We saw the fireworks with the cousins as usual, enjoying the fact that the kids can all play pretty independently now (I'll choose to ignore the part where Scott got scared of the fireworks because of the smoke now, instead of the noise, well, he still doesn't like the loudness, either).  I rushed to finish Nineteen Minutes and then hosted book group.

This wonderful start to summer then blended into me getting ready for and attending the BlogHer 2008 conference.  After returning, we got in a little bit of a funk with sad news and new anxieties cropping up. We scrambled around getting ready for vacation, went away, then had to recover from said vacation.  There was football practice and picking tomatoes and green beans from the garden.  Attempts at bike riding without training wheels.  Lots of lunches out.  TV watching, computer games, Wii playing.

I read a second book, Crossing To Safety, for my book group, cramming it in, finishing just in time for our meeting. 

There also were fights between the kids.  New issues with "trash can germs".  Complaints about being bored and simultaneously too busy.

I felt tired.  All. the. time.  Oh the headaches, also.  Grrr.

Usually I am more than eager for Fall, my favorite season, to arrive.  But this summer seemed to carry extra importance.  More than anytime before I know how precious these days are.  How fleeting.  I sense the change of seasons, not just literally, but figuratively, for me and my family. 

This time of caring for small children, of being dedicated primarily to them, is coming to an end.  There won't be any more babies.  I think I am the one who is having the most difficult time moving on.  Because it is me that needs to adjust the most.  From full-time, all consuming mommyhood, to what?  I don't know.  I feel lost when I thought I'd feel free, excited, revved-up for new possibilities.

Tomorrow my boy goes back to school.  Something he needs to do.  He wants nothing more than to stay home with me.  To be able to control his environment.  To not have to deal with any of it.

He is concerned about his teacher.  The bullies on the bus.  How long the day is.  Being away from home, missing me.  And the germs.  Really worried about the germs that lurk everywhere because, you know, no one else washes their hands and the bathrooms are beyond gross and don't even get him started on the cafeteria.  And the bus might break down or he could get poisoned.  And no one likes him, well some of the girls do, but they're yucky, except maybe the one girl that he kind of sort of likes, but no.  she's still yucky, too.  It is all just overwhelming.

But he must go.  It is good for him.

And for me.

The new school year always brings a lot of promise.  For fresh starts, new friends.  Opportunities to learn and grow.  I welcome the arrival of routine and cooler weather.  Of whatever lies ahead.

Even if I am wistful for the summer days and babies of the past.

*** Tomorrow I will be hosting a guest post from an anonymous Bitcher as part of Her Bad Mother's Betchfest.  Please check back to listen to some good old-fashioned ranting.  From someone other than me!  And to offer your comments and support.  Because everyone likes to be heard.

The Summer That We Wanted. Yeah, We Finally Got It!

Guess what?  Our summer is going really well.  Really, really, well.  So well that I am almost afraid to admit it for fear of jinxing things.  I know!  I can't believe it either.  I've done so much complaining about summer in the past that I had pretty much resigned myself to another stress-filled 10 week roller coaster.  But, something has happened here.  A perfect mix of maturity and structure that is enabling us all to enjoy these long summer days.

The irony is that a ton of stuff has gone wrong, too.  We've had a bee sting, a badly skinned knee, kids not going to sleep, a late night trip to the ER for an asthma attack, and a renewed fear of fireworks, among many other things.  In fact, just yesterday, I spent an hour on the phone trying to fix a banking problem, then another hour deciphering why my new sensor wasn't connecting to my Nike + account and then, right after she fell asleep, Jane threw up.

All that and the normal summer annoyances, like kids who fight and no time to myself, complaints about what's for lunch and who gets to play at Grammy's, anxiety about new situations.  Sunscreen.  Bugs.  The list goes on and on.

But none of that matters because what we do have is a typical summer.  Kids who swim and play with other kids.  Who can entertain each other and themselves.  Enough of a routine to keep things sane and plenty of flexibility to have fun. 

It is as if the atmosphere in our house has changed dramatically.

For years now I have been frantic and anxious.  Wondering how to get through each day, worried about what new challenge would come up.  Take last summer for example, Scott wouldn't put his head back in the water and Jane wasn't potty trained.  I spent all summer stressing that he'd never make it through a full day of school in first grade and she'd never be able to start preschool still in diapers.

And all I'd hear from everyone around me was, "Aren't you glad to have time with your kids?  They will be grown up soon enough and you will miss them.  You should enjoy summer when you can relax."  Except summer never felt relaxing at all.  It was more about me trying to figure out how to get a break from the kids and how to get them to comply as it seemed they should.

The other day I was chatting with one of the moms at the playground next to the pool complex and I admitted that this summer is finally like I had always hoped it would be.  I was explaining how Scott is now, after three previous summers at this same place, going in to swim lessons on his own.  How Jane plays with other kids and barely even looks for me. 

As we talked, the mom confided that she understood all too well.  That her older, twin boys, had spent two years in an autistic support class.  That she knew what I meant when I explained how I had felt self-conscious.  Like all the other moms were wondering either what was wrong with my kid or why I was such an awful parent.

But time and understanding has not only changed the way I look at Scott but it has also allowed me to see myself more accurately.  Just like everyone else.  Doing the best I can.  And because of that, I can now feel comfortable.  I realize that we do fit in.  That summer can be for us, too!

My book group just finished reading Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult.  While it certainly wasn't the best book I've read, I did relate to several of the characters.  In particular I was drawn to the idea that these children of mine, the ones who hug me and tell me they love me 20 times a day, will soon be off in their own worlds.  They will be much more interested and influenced by their peers and will no longer want me to hang out with them.  While I know this is the natural order of things, it pains me to the core.  Suddenly the idea that I am so lucky to have this time with them, to enjoy our summer with lots of free time, becomes crystal clear. 

Perhaps I needed Scott to be in full day school last year to truly appreciate the summer.  As I had suspected, I missed him.  And possibly I also needed to grow up a bit myself, too.  To see that even though racing for certain goals has merit, there are also times when not having high expectations, to just going with the flow, is equally valuable.  Last year I vowed to embrace summer, but I couldn't force myself to do it.  This year it is happening all on its own.

There are reminders everywhere that I should have a tiny baby to care for in addition to these two children of mine.  That this summer was also supposed to be about welcoming a new member to our family.  My heart hurts when I see sweet newborn babies.  But then I refocus and look at my kids.  The ones that are sporting tans and sun-bleached hair.  Who are begging me to play with them. 

And I feel fortunate once again. 

To be their mother. 

To have this time. 

To create these memories for them and for myself.

I Had a Post Planned For Today

But it all went awry.  It is my husband's birthday today.  He is 39, a whole half year younger than me.  I was crafting his birthday post yesterday while I took Jane to dance class.  I was piecing it together while I paid bills and cleaned up the house.  And I tweaked it more while I went on a two and a half hour grocery trip (traffic and multiple potty trips slowed us down).

Then the mad frenzy of Scott getting home from school; putting groceries away; overseeing homework; making, eating and cleaning up dinner; melded into putting the kids to bed and well I didn't have it in me to type up what I had been working on inside my head all day.

And today I have been sad. 

I went to the doctor for a follow-up visit.  She asked if I was OK and I said yes.  While we were talking and she was making sure I was physically fine, she said, "do you want to try again?"  I said I didn't know and then I started crying.  I continued to cry as the nurse checked my pee and quietly said, "it's negative, you aren't pregnant anymore."  I cried while I picked up a coffee for Matt at Starbucks on my way home.  I just kept on sobbing.  I read posts that made me cry more.  I just couldn't shake the sadness.

I thought about running as Jane was busy at her friend's house, but that meant I'd have to take another shower and I loathe doing that, especially in the winter. 

At some point I realized that I wanted to be upset.  I finally felt like it was over and that I could be sad for what won't be. 

I still feel very grateful.  I see and read about such awful pain that people endure.  I feel that this experience of mine pales in comparison.  But it still stings.  Today I let it hurt.  The tears kept coming and it felt right and justified.  For myself and for anyone who has ever had to let go.  To lose something they weren't even sure they wanted to begin with.

I think I will feel better tomorrow.  I needed today.

Debrief

Thank-you.  Thank-you.  Thank-you.  A million thank yous for listening, commenting, e-mailing.  For your support and encouragement.  For getting it.

Writing and now re-visiting and posting that story has been a cathartic experience for me.  While I do hope that it helps people, it has also been an enormous deal for me.  Blogging is the perfect venue for me.  I get to post what I want to talk about and people can choose to read or not.  I already had a person search on "Sensory Processing Disorder constipation" yesterday and find my story here (oh, the things we are proud of).  But more than that, I get this sense of community, these friends that I know in real life and those that I only know as internet buddies.  And it is all good.

So while I was posting that saga, a whole bunch of things happened in the here and now.  I will give you more updates tomorrow, first I have to tell you the most significant things:

It is now day 10 of NaBloPoMo.  My tenth post in as many days.  I made it one third of the way through the month!  Yea!

Writing that story reminded Matt and I of many little incidents along the way.  Like the first school friend birthday party that Scott went to at a rock gym when he was 3 and a half.  He was terrified of climbing the wall and he was uncomfortable, as he often became later in the day, because he had to go to the bathroom (sometimes he'd even ask to go to bed early knowing that once he was asleep his misery would end).  We left the party before cake was served and had to make an excuse that he didn't feel well.  I was embarrassed that the birthday boy's parents had paid for Scott to participate when he didn't at all.  And Scott sobbed the whole way home knowing that he missed the cake and fearing that his friends would find out about his problem.  Good times.

Another stand out moment was when a friend of mine, in response to my telling a group of moms from the neighborhood about Scott's problem, remarked, "Well I wouldn't be able to take that if it was my kid!"

I stared at her and said, "We don't have a choice.  Would you kick your kid out if this was their problem?"

It took me a long time to feel comfortable around her again. 

Anyway, the other thing that has happened is that reading your comments and thinking about the story have helped keep my mind off the fact that I am having a miscarriage.

While I knew this was an inevitable outcome of the news from last week, I guess I chose not to think about how it would all go down.  I know that it is incredibly common, in fact almost all of my friends have had at least one failed pregnancy.  But in case you are not familiar (or have blocked it out of your memory as I am thinking I might), let's just say that having a miscarriage sucks.  I have felt like crap all week, headaches and exhausted from the drop in hormones.  And now, well, without going into too much detail, it is a crampy, bloody, scary mess with no sweet infant at the end to look forward to.  I've been ill all day and wondering whether it will get worse before it gets better and I will end up in the hospital. 

And I have stuff to do!  Dammit!

I am sick of feeling lousy.  I am looking forward to running again.  To drinking wine.  To staying up past 10 pm.  To getting something done.

Now I will publish post number 10, kiss my sleeping kids and go to bed knowing that tomorrow will be a better day.

Well, I might go read your comments again, just to make myself feel a little better first.

It's a Brand New Day

I was going to title this:  No Heartbeat.  But I didn't want to make everyone immediately feel sorry for me.  That is NOT how I feel.  It is true, however, that the tiny baby in my belly does not have a heartbeat.  This was confirmed this morning at my 8.5 week ultrasound.  I say "confirmed" because I knew this was the case.  What I haven't been writing about here is that although I was tired and I had some general pregnancy symptoms, I was not sick.  And I just knew that this wasn't right.

When I was pregnant with Scott I was so ill by week 6 that I could barely get around.  Same thing with Jane.  And then this time, well, some funky appetite stuff, and initially I felt pretty awful, but then it stopped.  I never felt nauseous like I had in the past.

When I went in today, I told the ultrasound technician that I was concerned so she right away told me that the sack and embryo were there but that the fetus wasn't big enough for its age.  Then she searched and looked closer and tried to find a heartbeat, to no avail.

I am sad.

But I am not devastated.

In the waiting room there were very pregnant women, waiting for one test or another.  I could feel their anxiety.  I remembered coming to this same prenatal testing site every other day toward the end of my pregnancy with Scott.  The stress was unbelievable.  I absolutely hate being pregnant.  Not only because I feel like crap, but because there are so many unknowns, so many things you have no control over.

So I looked at those ladies and I reminded myself that I have two wonderful children already.  A boy who has stolen my heart and a girl who has reminded me how joyful life can be.

And I felt lucky.  So very fortunate for what I have.

Matt is on a train to Connecticut, hoping to find a job that will not require us to move.  His last day of work at his own company was yesterday.  He feels a little lost without a job.

I think we are finding our way, though.  Right back to where we were all along.

And in the spirit of moving forward, I am accepting the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) challenge.  I know!  Me, who can barely post once a week is committing to posting every. day. this month.

Goals are good, though, so check back here daily.  I will be putting out some things I've been afraid to post.  Stuff I've already written and things I've been meaning to do.  By the end of the month you will be so sick of reading cute stories about my kids and about what I think about everything that you will probably never want to come back here again.

But I hope you do because I am grateful for your friendship.  This is what will help me.  The writing.  The community.  Like a ball rolling down hill, I will be gaining strength with each post.  If you have any ideas or suggestions for what to write about, tell me here or e-mail me.

Thanks for helping me and coming along.

I really am OK.  I promise.  I would never lie here.

It's All Coming Together

Or falling apart.

Depends on how you look at it.

Because, of course, we all create our own reality.  Make our own choices.  For good or for bad.  But who's good and who's bad?  What might be right for one is not for another. 

You know what I'm saying?

For a year and a half now, I have been struggling with the decision as to whether or not we should have another baby.  I have agonized.  I have nagged Matt. I have stared at people with 2 older children and a baby.  I looked at Jane and thought, are you a middle child instead of the baby?  I have analyzed Matt and I as parents asking, are we 2 kid people or 3?  I have tried to ignore it.  I have tried to move on and start new ventures.  To blog.  To run. 

And yet.  It was there.  Why?  I still have no idea, really.  But, in retrospect, I can't believe how much of my time and energy has gone into this decision.  Not that it should be taken lightly.  But that I didn't realize sooner that the very fact that I couldn't get past it was my answer screaming right back at me.  None of the above questions provided any clarity, it was just that crazy, unexplainable feeling you get sometimes.  That often doesn't even make any sense.

So here we are.

This past week has been a blur of feeling equal amounts of calm and panic.

Calm that I felt the deed was done, so to speak, and now I could move on.  Get ready.  Not have to think about it anymore.

Panic that I felt so crappy already and how in the world was I ever going to make it to June feeling like this.

Calm that I think the splitting headaches were really from caffeine withdrawal instead of some horrific 8 month long saga I was going to endure.

Panic that I am so short tempered that I will be the miserable mother I feared I might become because of this.

Calm that I will not be like the pregnant woman I saw at the doctor's office today with the 4 & 2 year old, who was dealing so poorly with her children, knowing that my kids will be in school when I visit the doctor (and that they are older).

Panic that Matt will have a nervous breakdown.

Calm that I will get to experience this all one last time and close each door as it finishes without holding it ajar for a possible future.  This includes the ability to get my tubes tied right after the baby is born!

Panic that the date for Jane's dance recital is one week prior to my due date and I will most likely miss it.  This led to the reality sinking in about not being able to go to all my kids' things and the sadness I felt when Jane was born and I missed Scott.

Calm that I can, finally, justify keeping all these boxes of kids clothes.

Panic that my mom will freak out.

Calm that Matt has had some very promising interviews and will, hopefully, be able to find a good job before the money runs out from his company.

Panic that the best job, so far, will require us to move.

To Boston.

Did I just say that?  Yep.  Move.  From here.  Where my mom lives down the street. 

Except that, maybe even this, is a good thing.  Maybe it is all part of it.  A fresh start.  A new beginning.  Change is good, right? 

Of all the places we could move, Boston is one of the few that consistently comes up.  I think we would like it there.  But, um, to get from here to there?  And the difference in how we live now.  Oh.  My.

For now I am trying (not very successfully) to keep myself from looking up towns near Boston.  Hey, in Walpole, Scott could take Dodgeball after school.  And in Milton, the lunch menu has nutrition information on it.

Last week was strange, too, what with this crazy hot weather and my caffeine withdrawal induced haze.  I finally emerged on Monday morning and got it together.  I hosted a playgroup, cleaned up the basement, started the big closet overhaul.

So, before it gets to be way too long since my last post (this may be the longest space yet between posts), I want to say thank-you to everyone for their supportive comments.  This includes the e-mails from people who do not like to comment (my brother, my cousin).  From people with 1 child to those with several already.  To some where they have had no trouble building the family they wanted to some who have had to make difficult choices or come to grips with things not being the way they would like.

It is an odd combination of things you can control and those you can't, this life.  We keep on doing the best we can.  Making the choices we think are right for us.  Good or bad. (I feel I should launch into, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, ....)

One more thing before I hit publish:

I am thrilled to introduce my first troll commenter, Rachel.  I would link in her e-mail, but, alas she did not leave one.  Ironically, she lives near Swapscott, MA, which, you guessed it, is north of Boston.  She did find the time to read my blog (for awhile) which makes me happy because it drove up my stats.  I feel I have arrived in the blogging world.  Someone I do not know spent time reading this little 'ol blog.  And, AND, she felt so compelled by what she read, at 12:30 am, that she left a comment.

So I would like to address what she said in the unlikely event that she comes back (please come back, Rachel, the more the merrier):

Rachel:  Are you nuts?

Spinning Yellow:  Yes, I am.

Rachel:  Your entire blog suggests that you are riddled with anxiety.

Spinning Yellow:  My entire blog?  I see you read some of it, but I am not quite sure you read all of it.  Yeah, there's plenty of anxiety here, you aren't going to get an argument on that.  The majority of anxiety about having another baby was surrounding the decision.  Anyway, a blog is what it is.  A diary.  Therapy.  I am not always what I appear to be here, because this is only what I choose to write about.  Have you seen some other blogs?  There's a pretty hefty amount of angst going on out there.

Rachel:  The logical trajectory is that you will have more of the same.

Spinning Yellow:  Reality bites.  I am what I am.  You must be anxiety free?

Rachel:  And to what end?

Spinning Yellow:  I guess another kid. 

Rachel:  And you expect what, exactly? Sorry, I just can't get all mushy about it.

Spinning Yellow:  Did I ask for something?  I am not really a mushy person, so, no, I don't want that.  No one forced you to read or expected anything from you.  Jeez, you'd think I told YOU to have another kid.

Rachel:  More isn't better.

Spinning Winning:  I couldn't agree more.  Because if there are twins growing in there, you'll really see high anxiety!

I Told You I Couldn't Keep a Secret

Or, just call me Fertile Myrtle.

Sorry for the lame photo, you get the idea.

Because all the cool girls are doing it, too.

So, before this gets all crazy, it's not like we've told anyone, just you lucky readers.  Because I am well aware that a positive test as the one above is no guarantee that there will be a baby come June (May?) next year.  It is, of course, way too early to really get all sure about things.

But.

I will call the doctor. 

I will switch to decaf coffee (bummer).

I will try not to freak out. 

I will be happy that I only feel mildly sick since I still have another week or so for that to kick in (at which time I will be stressed if I don't feel like total crap). 

I will try to find my old stuff because I gave away a lot of my maternity clothes and pregnancy books. 

I will stay calm knowing that I already have a boy and a girl and have weathered the difficult transition from one to two.

I will eat ice cream.

I will be content knowing that we gave this a try and so far so good.

I will know that this time I am done for sure and just edging in before I turn 40.

And I will try to forget that Scott looked at me strangely this afternoon and said, "Mommy, you look different to me today."

Sometimes that kid is just plain eerie.

I wonder what this one will be like.