Some people have scars that cannot be hidden, ones that mark their bodies in a way that they cannot cover up. Others stare at the mismatched flesh on their faces, their heads, their arms, or their hands, and wonder what tragedy caused them to carry that reminder around forever.
For the rest of us, life deals us whatever set of circumstances that leaves us wounded inside, where no one can see. Every one of us is left scarred in our own way, each to our own extent.
It can be easy to conveniently forget about the pain that caused these injuries, or the fact that you need to deal with them, when they don't stare back at you in the mirror every day. But sometimes, they come screaming back to the surface when you least expect it.
It's not always a bad thing, though.
I'll explain.
Some friends of ours had their first baby on Thursday night. I used my lunch break on Friday to go visit them at the hospital and take them a gift. The new baby was adorable. He slept with a sweet little smirk on his face and just seemed so happy. I was really glad for my friends as the new mom talked about how the baby was barely fussing, was nursing like a champ, was perfectly healthy....
But....there are these other feelings. Like the fact that I wanted to cry in that room, because everything was so relaxed, without everyone worried about things like, "Oh, the baby won't eat, what's going on with this, she doesn't want to eat...." "Nursing just isn't working right now, we're going to have to go ahead and supplement...." "She isn't strong enough for this bottle, you're going to have to feed her from this syringe..." "She has a heart murmur, she's going to need an echo, we can't discharge her until it's been sent up to Dallas to be evaluated by the pediatric cardiologists there...."
It's hard to explain exactly how I was feeling, because I wasn't expecting it at all. Sad, because this baby was only 18 hours old, and their family was already having experiences we were somewhat cheated out of? Or does that make me jealous?
At any rate, it's simple to say that as wonderful and incredible as Brooklyn is, our life with her as a baby has not been what most people would consider normal, although it continues to improve all the time. It was not what I expected or pictured when I imagined having a newborn. I have a million and one beautiful memories. But I have a lot that have also, I guess, scarred me as well.
So, this sweet baby's mom asked me if I wanted to hold him. Of course I did. But I have not held a brand new little one since Brooklyn. I took him in my arms and sat down in the chair by the window and let the sun warm my face. The most peaceful feeling had overcome me, pushing away the stress that I usually cannot rid myself of. The baby boy smirked and smiled and made his tiny baby squeaks as I rocked him back and forth. I just let myself feel....relaxed and calm and happy.
And I started thinking.
Time doesn't heal all wounds. Maybe a better experience, a second chance, is what really does.
I feel like time isn't the answer. More than three years since I had delivered my daughter, I was standing there in that recovery room ready to bawl. I felt like I needed to cover my scars like the man who is ashamed of his old wounds that stay exposed for the world to see.
So, for the very first time since having my daughter, I thought that I might be ready to try to have another child. The thought has not so much as crossed my mind in three years; when other people ask me about it, it completely overwhelms me. I can't handle it, I think. But the reason is, my brain has always automatically thought that everything would be just the same as it was the first time for us. We don't know parenthood any other way.
My worries are many.
But I have hope. I have faith that it could be different this time.
And I want to heal these scars.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Leaving my mark
She is a nearly-blank slate, this beautiful little girl.
She is starting to make a few marks of her own.
She is starting to make a few marks of her own.
But...
someone has to show her how.
So,
by the words I speak,
by the way I say them,
by the way I touch her,
by the way I treat others,
by telling her how proud of her I am,
by telling her what a great job she is doing,
what a beautiful, wonderful, smart, lovely little girl she is,
and that I will love her more than anything, no matter what,
by giving her hugs,
kisses,
attention,and time,
I will draw on the slate that is my amazing daughter.
I want her to have the pieces that are missing from my own work of art.
I will tell her the things that I wanted to be told so badly.
I know how important these words are to a little girl...
And to a girl who is not so little anymore.
I have to be careful that my lines are drawn perfectly straight,
that my curves are perfectly rounded.
I hold my breath and pray
that I don't make any mistakes.
Because I can't erase any marks I make on this canvas.
There is no room for error with a responsibility of this magnitude.
I want her to love everything about the beautiful painting that she becomes,
and know that every mark I ever made
was with complete and utter love
for everything that she is
and will become.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Can I vent for a minute, please?
Dear Father-in-law,
How dare you. When your son calls to tell you how afraid he is that his baby could be autistic, how dare you belittle him and make him feel so small. He called you because this is the same diagnosis that his brother, your other son, has. So he thought you might be understanding for once. Instead of listening, you first had to argue with him and tell him that everything about Brooklyn's development is normal and that everything is fine. Then, when your son tells you, no, her doctors say it's not normal, you get mad and say that it's normal for a baby who has had the medical problems she has had. That you would expect it so why can't we? We just need to deal with it. That we don't know what real problems are. That everything that Brooklyn has had to struggle with her entire little life has never been "anything major."
Then you turn downright ugly and say that if there is something developmentally wrong with our daughter, that it's our fault because we "just strapped her in her carseat or swing and left her all the time" when she was an infant. I'm sorry, but when the hell did this happen?? I seem to remember nearly losing my mind because for months, I would not even put her down so that I could use the bathroom or change my clothes or get something to eat because I could not bear to hear her cry. I recall not sleeping many nights because she would not sleep unless she was being held, and my intense fear of SIDS wouldn't allow me to fall asleep while holding her, and I couldn't even dream of letting her sleep in my bed. Yes, she eventually began sleeping in her carseat, but that's because her doctors told us that was where she needed to sleep because she needed to be elevated.
So please tell me, when the fuck did we EVER just leave her in her carseat or swing and walk away? I still cannot leave her unattended for five seconds. Even when she was asleep in the carseat (on doctor's orders, remember???), she was right beside our bed at night, or right next to wherever we were sitting at the time. We have always talked to her, read to her, sang to her, played music for her, bought all of these developmental toys to play with her, everything we could think of to try to optimize her cognitive growth. We have held and rocked and cuddled and hugged and loved on our daughter more than I ever thought possible. Countless hours.
But you wouldn't know that, would you? You wouldn't know because you are a selfish asshole, and you could count the number of times you have been around your first and only grandchild on your digits. You could count the number of times you've held her on one hand. You lost interest in my pregnancy when we found out that our unborn baby was a little girl. At the hospital when she was born, you wouldn't call her by her name, and repeatedly referred to her as "Brittany" and "Brooke." Instead of an appropriate baby gift, you brought your hours-old granddaughter a hideous dog chew toy in the shape of a pig that was bigger than she was. When your son asked you to hold his pride and joy, you waved him away and said, "Nah. I don't want to." When she was terribly ill and was hospitalized when she was four months old, you came to her hospital room and mocked the IV line in her head, even after hearing how traumatic the experience was for both she and I. She was horribly ill and we were afraid, no one knew what was wrong, and you sat there and laughed at her.
You think that you know so much. You've disregarded our baby's doctors' orders because you believe that you are so much smarter than her specialists. When she was having so many problems with her digestive tract, you fed her meat juice, when all she had ever ingested prior to that point was breastmilk, formula, and baby cereal. You asked Dave if our daughter could have it. He said no. We looked over and not a minute later, you were doing what you wanted anyway. You've run your mouth off many a time, telling us what we need to be doing to "make" her sit, crawl, walk, breathe better, sleep better, gain weight, whatever you thought her problem was on each occasion. Do you think that your son has forgotten that you were scarcely around when he was growing up, and that when you were, you didn't make an effort to be a parent? Do you honestly think that we would believe that you're an expert on any of these matters?
You're the most ignorant, pompous, immature, inconsiderate, heartless asshole I have ever known. How dare you. How dare you crush your own son with your words when he needed you to just shut up and listen, or God forbid, reassure him a little bit. He is scared. He is beside himself with stress and worry. And you respond with talking out of your ass and mindless, unfounded accusations. HOW DARE YOU accuse us of poor parenting and blame us when you are never even around to know that we devote every last drop of our love and energy into making everything right for our precious baby girl. How dare you make us question ourselves. How dare you try to make things worse than they already are with your idiotic lies. How dare you treat our family this way.
How dare you. When your son calls to tell you how afraid he is that his baby could be autistic, how dare you belittle him and make him feel so small. He called you because this is the same diagnosis that his brother, your other son, has. So he thought you might be understanding for once. Instead of listening, you first had to argue with him and tell him that everything about Brooklyn's development is normal and that everything is fine. Then, when your son tells you, no, her doctors say it's not normal, you get mad and say that it's normal for a baby who has had the medical problems she has had. That you would expect it so why can't we? We just need to deal with it. That we don't know what real problems are. That everything that Brooklyn has had to struggle with her entire little life has never been "anything major."
Then you turn downright ugly and say that if there is something developmentally wrong with our daughter, that it's our fault because we "just strapped her in her carseat or swing and left her all the time" when she was an infant. I'm sorry, but when the hell did this happen?? I seem to remember nearly losing my mind because for months, I would not even put her down so that I could use the bathroom or change my clothes or get something to eat because I could not bear to hear her cry. I recall not sleeping many nights because she would not sleep unless she was being held, and my intense fear of SIDS wouldn't allow me to fall asleep while holding her, and I couldn't even dream of letting her sleep in my bed. Yes, she eventually began sleeping in her carseat, but that's because her doctors told us that was where she needed to sleep because she needed to be elevated.
So please tell me, when the fuck did we EVER just leave her in her carseat or swing and walk away? I still cannot leave her unattended for five seconds. Even when she was asleep in the carseat (on doctor's orders, remember???), she was right beside our bed at night, or right next to wherever we were sitting at the time. We have always talked to her, read to her, sang to her, played music for her, bought all of these developmental toys to play with her, everything we could think of to try to optimize her cognitive growth. We have held and rocked and cuddled and hugged and loved on our daughter more than I ever thought possible. Countless hours.
But you wouldn't know that, would you? You wouldn't know because you are a selfish asshole, and you could count the number of times you have been around your first and only grandchild on your digits. You could count the number of times you've held her on one hand. You lost interest in my pregnancy when we found out that our unborn baby was a little girl. At the hospital when she was born, you wouldn't call her by her name, and repeatedly referred to her as "Brittany" and "Brooke." Instead of an appropriate baby gift, you brought your hours-old granddaughter a hideous dog chew toy in the shape of a pig that was bigger than she was. When your son asked you to hold his pride and joy, you waved him away and said, "Nah. I don't want to." When she was terribly ill and was hospitalized when she was four months old, you came to her hospital room and mocked the IV line in her head, even after hearing how traumatic the experience was for both she and I. She was horribly ill and we were afraid, no one knew what was wrong, and you sat there and laughed at her.
You think that you know so much. You've disregarded our baby's doctors' orders because you believe that you are so much smarter than her specialists. When she was having so many problems with her digestive tract, you fed her meat juice, when all she had ever ingested prior to that point was breastmilk, formula, and baby cereal. You asked Dave if our daughter could have it. He said no. We looked over and not a minute later, you were doing what you wanted anyway. You've run your mouth off many a time, telling us what we need to be doing to "make" her sit, crawl, walk, breathe better, sleep better, gain weight, whatever you thought her problem was on each occasion. Do you think that your son has forgotten that you were scarcely around when he was growing up, and that when you were, you didn't make an effort to be a parent? Do you honestly think that we would believe that you're an expert on any of these matters?
You're the most ignorant, pompous, immature, inconsiderate, heartless asshole I have ever known. How dare you. How dare you crush your own son with your words when he needed you to just shut up and listen, or God forbid, reassure him a little bit. He is scared. He is beside himself with stress and worry. And you respond with talking out of your ass and mindless, unfounded accusations. HOW DARE YOU accuse us of poor parenting and blame us when you are never even around to know that we devote every last drop of our love and energy into making everything right for our precious baby girl. How dare you make us question ourselves. How dare you try to make things worse than they already are with your idiotic lies. How dare you treat our family this way.
Monday, August 3, 2009
This machine cannot communicate these thoughts and the strain I am under....
I knew I hadn't blogged in a while, but I was shocked to get on here and see that it had been just a couple of days short of a month since my last entry.
Allow me to attempt to explain myself.
No, I can't give you a single specific reason why I haven't been writing. I will tell you that I started this blog to be my personal, somewhat-anonymous space where I could say what I wanted, where I could vent and worry and talk about things that I am normally too afraid to talk about in real life. Well, either afraid to talk about or I just don't feel like anyone wants to hear about it. And now, apparently I am getting that way with my blog too.
I could write about how more often than not, my marriage seems to be crumbling. How my husband and I fight for hours at a time, days at a time, yell at each other, and how I want to hit him so badly for saying the hurtful things he says to me. How I have cried so hard that I cannot stop and end up having panic attacks in the middle of the night, because I never, ever thought that we would be like this, and I never would have dreamed that I would feel the way that I do about him so often now.
I could blog about how my brother was living in a Wal-Mart because he has been kicked out of overy homeless shelter in town because he refuses to stop using drugs. I could tell you about the call my parents got from one of my brother's friends, saying that my brother had a cyanide pill and planned to take it soon to end his life. How my parents asked me to help, and so I knew nothing else to do but to use my connections at work to have a probation violation warrant issued for his arrest. I went and told his probation officer's supervisor about every violation that I knew of. I found out where he was going to be dropped off and when on the day said warrant was released. I stayed on the phone with the officers as they found and followed him, and arrested him. How my brother said he would kill himself in jail and my guilt related to that. What kind of person orchestrates her own brother's arrest? Me, apparently, when I see no other way to try to save him from himself. But if something happens to him behind those bars, I will never be able to forgive myself. Because although I am not the REASON he is in jail, I put him there.
I could write about my worst fear in the world right now...that at sixteen months, my baby girl has stopped using all of her words. How every word with the exception of "Dada" has seemingly disappeared from her little mind. That it has been nearly a month since I have heard her sweet, tiny baby voice say "Mama", "baby", "apple", "hi", "hey", "bye", "puppy", "egg", or "fish". That she no longer points at pictures in books, asking to hear the words for everything by saying "This? This?" How I am completely terrified of that horrible, ugly A-word...autism. That my husband is sick with worry over it because it runs in his family. "If she has it," he says, "it would be all my fault." And that it is taking what seems like a million years to have her evaluated or seen by her pedi. That I truly don't know if I could handle that diagnosis. I am so afraid to even think of it as a possibility, to type or speak the word. As if doing so will curse her with that condition or make it suddenly real. It tears me into a million little pieces.
I could write about any of those things.
But I end up pushing it all back down inside, rolling my fear and anger and guilt and sadness and worry into a ball in the pit of my stomach, and not using this blog for what it was intended to be - my only outlet for all of these feelings and fears. I tell myself that no one wants to read whiny, negative entries. That if I write the things that I am thinking, that people will think I am some kind of self-pitying, bitchy, crybaby drama queen.
And then I can't think of anything else I have to say, because all of these horrible feelings seem to consume me completely these days.
And no one wants to hear about that, right?
Allow me to attempt to explain myself.
No, I can't give you a single specific reason why I haven't been writing. I will tell you that I started this blog to be my personal, somewhat-anonymous space where I could say what I wanted, where I could vent and worry and talk about things that I am normally too afraid to talk about in real life. Well, either afraid to talk about or I just don't feel like anyone wants to hear about it. And now, apparently I am getting that way with my blog too.
I could write about how more often than not, my marriage seems to be crumbling. How my husband and I fight for hours at a time, days at a time, yell at each other, and how I want to hit him so badly for saying the hurtful things he says to me. How I have cried so hard that I cannot stop and end up having panic attacks in the middle of the night, because I never, ever thought that we would be like this, and I never would have dreamed that I would feel the way that I do about him so often now.
I could blog about how my brother was living in a Wal-Mart because he has been kicked out of overy homeless shelter in town because he refuses to stop using drugs. I could tell you about the call my parents got from one of my brother's friends, saying that my brother had a cyanide pill and planned to take it soon to end his life. How my parents asked me to help, and so I knew nothing else to do but to use my connections at work to have a probation violation warrant issued for his arrest. I went and told his probation officer's supervisor about every violation that I knew of. I found out where he was going to be dropped off and when on the day said warrant was released. I stayed on the phone with the officers as they found and followed him, and arrested him. How my brother said he would kill himself in jail and my guilt related to that. What kind of person orchestrates her own brother's arrest? Me, apparently, when I see no other way to try to save him from himself. But if something happens to him behind those bars, I will never be able to forgive myself. Because although I am not the REASON he is in jail, I put him there.
I could write about my worst fear in the world right now...that at sixteen months, my baby girl has stopped using all of her words. How every word with the exception of "Dada" has seemingly disappeared from her little mind. That it has been nearly a month since I have heard her sweet, tiny baby voice say "Mama", "baby", "apple", "hi", "hey", "bye", "puppy", "egg", or "fish". That she no longer points at pictures in books, asking to hear the words for everything by saying "This? This?" How I am completely terrified of that horrible, ugly A-word...autism. That my husband is sick with worry over it because it runs in his family. "If she has it," he says, "it would be all my fault." And that it is taking what seems like a million years to have her evaluated or seen by her pedi. That I truly don't know if I could handle that diagnosis. I am so afraid to even think of it as a possibility, to type or speak the word. As if doing so will curse her with that condition or make it suddenly real. It tears me into a million little pieces.
I could write about any of those things.
But I end up pushing it all back down inside, rolling my fear and anger and guilt and sadness and worry into a ball in the pit of my stomach, and not using this blog for what it was intended to be - my only outlet for all of these feelings and fears. I tell myself that no one wants to read whiny, negative entries. That if I write the things that I am thinking, that people will think I am some kind of self-pitying, bitchy, crybaby drama queen.
And then I can't think of anything else I have to say, because all of these horrible feelings seem to consume me completely these days.
And no one wants to hear about that, right?
Friday, April 24, 2009
The ties that bind us
The Monday night dinner with my parents and little brother was....okay, I guess. Nothing big happened. Nothing terrible.
It's just discouraging, this path that he is headed down. Again.
He is 20 years old and has no plans and no goals for himself. Well, I take that back. He wants my parents to give him his college fund money (from our grandparents) while he is here. He is telling them he wants to go to a technical school in Georgia, but says he doesn't know what for. We know his track record. It is obvious he does not want the money for school. He has no job, no place to live, a girlfriend (yeah, they're back together now) with no job, and a drug and alcohol habit. He and the girlfriend have already had a pregnancy scare in their one month of being together. She has a 16-month-old child that is living with a relative in another state because she couldn't care for him. She is married. She says she's getting divorced, but who knows. My brother talked about fights they have been having - ridiculous, possessive, jealousy-fueled fights that people who have been in a relationship for a month should never have.
My brother told Dave that he couldn't pass a drug test to get a job test now (we knew that). But then he said that he has no interest in staying clean. That he doesn't see any reason to not use drugs. (Really? Are you serious? No reason at all? Not the fact that you have wrecked your life several times over with drug use? You've been to rehab. You've been arrested. Been on probation. Been kicked out multiple times. Totalled multiple cars. Discharged from the Army. Attempted suicide. Hurt your family so badly. Lost friends. You said you knew the drugs were the reason why. You said you were going to get your life straight this time.)
It's so hard to have hope for someone in this situation. I love him so much, I want all of these wonderful things for him, yet he wants nothing positive for himself.
Brooklyn remembers him. It had been four months since she'd seen him, and she reached for him the second she laid eyes on him.
Dave said he doesn't want my brother in and out of Brooklyn's life while he is living his life this way. "I don't want him coming around Brooklyn, around us, until he's clean. He's had chances. This is it," Dave said. He doesn't want our daughter exposed to the hurt that comes with loving someone who is an addict. I understand, but I don't want to take her from him. I know he loves her. No, I do not want him around us when he is high. But I also cannot bring myself to tell my husband that I will agree to this. I already have one brother who we have no contact with because he is a lying, manipulating, violent, hurtful drug addict. My baby brother is basically the only sibling I have now.
I don't want to lose him. But I'm afraid he may be lost no matter what I do. He is heading back down a dangerous road. If something were to happen, I couldn't deal with the guilt...(Could I have done more? I should have been there for him. Why didn't we let him come over? Why didn't we reach out? We shouldn't have bowed out of his life. He needed us and we weren't there....)
It's morbid, but these are the things I think about. The "what-ifs." Especially now that I know he has the capacity (and will?) to try to take his own life.
I don't want to be an only child.
It's just discouraging, this path that he is headed down. Again.
He is 20 years old and has no plans and no goals for himself. Well, I take that back. He wants my parents to give him his college fund money (from our grandparents) while he is here. He is telling them he wants to go to a technical school in Georgia, but says he doesn't know what for. We know his track record. It is obvious he does not want the money for school. He has no job, no place to live, a girlfriend (yeah, they're back together now) with no job, and a drug and alcohol habit. He and the girlfriend have already had a pregnancy scare in their one month of being together. She has a 16-month-old child that is living with a relative in another state because she couldn't care for him. She is married. She says she's getting divorced, but who knows. My brother talked about fights they have been having - ridiculous, possessive, jealousy-fueled fights that people who have been in a relationship for a month should never have.
My brother told Dave that he couldn't pass a drug test to get a job test now (we knew that). But then he said that he has no interest in staying clean. That he doesn't see any reason to not use drugs. (Really? Are you serious? No reason at all? Not the fact that you have wrecked your life several times over with drug use? You've been to rehab. You've been arrested. Been on probation. Been kicked out multiple times. Totalled multiple cars. Discharged from the Army. Attempted suicide. Hurt your family so badly. Lost friends. You said you knew the drugs were the reason why. You said you were going to get your life straight this time.)
It's so hard to have hope for someone in this situation. I love him so much, I want all of these wonderful things for him, yet he wants nothing positive for himself.
Brooklyn remembers him. It had been four months since she'd seen him, and she reached for him the second she laid eyes on him.
Dave said he doesn't want my brother in and out of Brooklyn's life while he is living his life this way. "I don't want him coming around Brooklyn, around us, until he's clean. He's had chances. This is it," Dave said. He doesn't want our daughter exposed to the hurt that comes with loving someone who is an addict. I understand, but I don't want to take her from him. I know he loves her. No, I do not want him around us when he is high. But I also cannot bring myself to tell my husband that I will agree to this. I already have one brother who we have no contact with because he is a lying, manipulating, violent, hurtful drug addict. My baby brother is basically the only sibling I have now.
I don't want to lose him. But I'm afraid he may be lost no matter what I do. He is heading back down a dangerous road. If something were to happen, I couldn't deal with the guilt...(Could I have done more? I should have been there for him. Why didn't we let him come over? Why didn't we reach out? We shouldn't have bowed out of his life. He needed us and we weren't there....)
It's morbid, but these are the things I think about. The "what-ifs." Especially now that I know he has the capacity (and will?) to try to take his own life.
I don't want to be an only child.
Monday, April 20, 2009
That uneasy feeling
My baby brother is back in town.
He was discharged from the Army at the end of March. Since then, he has been living with a girlfriend that he met when she and her mother were witnesses to the wreck he had when he was trying to kill himself (what a lovely story). He told my mother that he was not going to come back to Texas; he was going to stay in Georgia because the people here are bad influences on him and he needed to make positive changes in his life.
Fast-forward a couple of weeks. On Friday, the girlfriend broke up with him, so he could no longerfreeload live with her and her parents. On Saturday, he was back here. On Sunday, he was already hanging out with our other brother and their mutual drug buddies. My father overheard him talking on the phone telling friends that he couldn't wait to get high with them. He takes no responsibility for the things that have happened over the past few months. He has no plans for himself. He is obviously using again. And so the downward spiral continues.
Dave, Brooklyn, and I are supposed to go to my parent's house for dinner tonight. This will be the first time that I have seen or talked to my baby brother since the drug relapse, the suicide attempts and his subsequent Army discharge. We have texted a few times, but I haven't been able to actually pick up the phone and call him. I can't seem to summon up the courage or find the right words. So I just pray. And worry.
I don't feel ready to see him. I don't really know what to say to him anymore. I just have this sick, heavy feeling hanging over me, the kind that stays with you when you are watching someone you love self-destruct. I know that feeling well now.
He was discharged from the Army at the end of March. Since then, he has been living with a girlfriend that he met when she and her mother were witnesses to the wreck he had when he was trying to kill himself (what a lovely story). He told my mother that he was not going to come back to Texas; he was going to stay in Georgia because the people here are bad influences on him and he needed to make positive changes in his life.
Fast-forward a couple of weeks. On Friday, the girlfriend broke up with him, so he could no longer
Dave, Brooklyn, and I are supposed to go to my parent's house for dinner tonight. This will be the first time that I have seen or talked to my baby brother since the drug relapse, the suicide attempts and his subsequent Army discharge. We have texted a few times, but I haven't been able to actually pick up the phone and call him. I can't seem to summon up the courage or find the right words. So I just pray. And worry.
I don't feel ready to see him. I don't really know what to say to him anymore. I just have this sick, heavy feeling hanging over me, the kind that stays with you when you are watching someone you love self-destruct. I know that feeling well now.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Yes, it can get worse
Last Friday night, my parents finally were able to talk to my baby brother a couple of days after he tried to kill himself by intentionally wrecking his car. He was very remorseful about the whole situation and seemed to have come to his senses. He told my mom that he didn't know why he had done what he did. He said that he knew that he needed to grow up. He had talked to a psychiatrist and a chaplain on base and knew he needed to get his life back together. He told my mom that he wasn't thinking about how much his actions hurt people that loved him, and apologized to my mom and dad for everything that had been going on lately. He was going to get his life back on track, he said.
My mom called me and told me about her conversation with my brother. "He sounds really good," she said. "He says he's going to call you tonight after he gets done with his extra duty. He says he knows he has hurt you too, and he wants to apologize. When he calls you, will you please listen to him and just talk to him?" I told her that of course I would talk to him.
I waited, but I never heard from him.
On Wednesday, my mom said that she needed to talk to me about my brother. She said that she had found out something on Tuesday, but didn't want to tell me then because it was Brooklyn's birthday. My little brother had attempted suicide again on Monday night by overdosing on pain pills, muscle relaxants, and psych meds. Apparently he took about 70 pills. Tuesday morning, he did not report for duty. They went into the barracks and found him in his room. His pulse was thready, he was not breathing well, and they could not wake him. They took him to the emergency room, and now he is in a psychiatric hospital at a nearby Army base.
He had left a suicide note. Part of the note said that he loved our parents very much and that he was sorry, but that he did not want to put them through everything that they had already been through with our other brother. That makes me so angry. Probably not the emotion I should feel...but come on...if you don't want them to go through all of that again, then don't do the same damn things that our other brother did! Quit with the drugs, quit hurting yourself and everyone who loves you. How the fuck is killing yourself the answer? How is that going to hurt anyone less? I don't get it. It's so damn selfish, and so stupid, and such a waste, and so sad. There is so much that I want to say to him, yet somehow there is absolutely nothing that I can say.
My mom called me and told me about her conversation with my brother. "He sounds really good," she said. "He says he's going to call you tonight after he gets done with his extra duty. He says he knows he has hurt you too, and he wants to apologize. When he calls you, will you please listen to him and just talk to him?" I told her that of course I would talk to him.
I waited, but I never heard from him.
On Wednesday, my mom said that she needed to talk to me about my brother. She said that she had found out something on Tuesday, but didn't want to tell me then because it was Brooklyn's birthday. My little brother had attempted suicide again on Monday night by overdosing on pain pills, muscle relaxants, and psych meds. Apparently he took about 70 pills. Tuesday morning, he did not report for duty. They went into the barracks and found him in his room. His pulse was thready, he was not breathing well, and they could not wake him. They took him to the emergency room, and now he is in a psychiatric hospital at a nearby Army base.
He had left a suicide note. Part of the note said that he loved our parents very much and that he was sorry, but that he did not want to put them through everything that they had already been through with our other brother. That makes me so angry. Probably not the emotion I should feel...but come on...if you don't want them to go through all of that again, then don't do the same damn things that our other brother did! Quit with the drugs, quit hurting yourself and everyone who loves you. How the fuck is killing yourself the answer? How is that going to hurt anyone less? I don't get it. It's so damn selfish, and so stupid, and such a waste, and so sad. There is so much that I want to say to him, yet somehow there is absolutely nothing that I can say.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Bad news
Following my baby brother’s hearing with the Army on Wednesday, we didn’t hear from him. He was not answering his phone and wouldn’t return the text messages I sent him. Wednesday passed by with no word. Then Thursday.
I began to wonder if he really was in jail, like my dream the night before his hearing had suggested. Would anyone call my parents and tell them if this was going on?
Friday morning, my mother called me in tears. My father had called my brother’s sergeant, the one who had informed them of my brother’s failed drug tests and told them of his upcoming hearing. The sergeant said that my brother’s hearing had gone much better than expected. It was decided that he would lose one month of pay instead of two for his first offense, and would be on restriction for 15 days for the second offense. He was not being discharged for the drug use.
But.
Wednesday night, he left the base. Of course, he was on restriction, so he wasn’t supposed to leave at all. From what the sergeant said, my brother was driving his car 35+ mph over the speed limit and hit another car. On purpose. He told the police at the scene that he was trying to kill himself.
My dad initially thought that my brother was in “the psych ward,” but was it turns out, he was being kept on suicide watch on the base instead. So now, he is being discharged. It will take a month or two.
My heart is broken for him. Life will be even harder for him now. And why would he want to take his own life? Why???? I am so sad and afraid. I don’t understand. I don’t really know what else to think or say about it.
I began to wonder if he really was in jail, like my dream the night before his hearing had suggested. Would anyone call my parents and tell them if this was going on?
Friday morning, my mother called me in tears. My father had called my brother’s sergeant, the one who had informed them of my brother’s failed drug tests and told them of his upcoming hearing. The sergeant said that my brother’s hearing had gone much better than expected. It was decided that he would lose one month of pay instead of two for his first offense, and would be on restriction for 15 days for the second offense. He was not being discharged for the drug use.
But.
Wednesday night, he left the base. Of course, he was on restriction, so he wasn’t supposed to leave at all. From what the sergeant said, my brother was driving his car 35+ mph over the speed limit and hit another car. On purpose. He told the police at the scene that he was trying to kill himself.
My dad initially thought that my brother was in “the psych ward,” but was it turns out, he was being kept on suicide watch on the base instead. So now, he is being discharged. It will take a month or two.
My heart is broken for him. Life will be even harder for him now. And why would he want to take his own life? Why???? I am so sad and afraid. I don’t understand. I don’t really know what else to think or say about it.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Consequences
When I got home from work yesterday, my mother told me that my youngest brother would be having a hearing with his Colonel at 5:30 this morning to determine his future with the Army.
We learned last week that my brother failed two drug tests during the month of January. The levels on the second one were three times higher than the first.
This life cycle of an addict....I cannot understand it. The destructiveness. What seems to be determination to ruin their own lives. My baby brother is different than the brother in between us. He makes huge strides forward and does good. I have such high hopes for him. I know he is smart, sweet, loving and strong (when he isn't using) and I want only good things for him. I know he can have those things, but only if he will forever abandon the drugs. And he always goes back to them. The reality of this crushes those of us close to him, time and again. Why? WHY? Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You should have so much better.
I slept through my alarm this morning. I was not there....I was in the middle of a vivid dream.
In my dream, I am going to Huntsville to interview an inmate there. I park my car and get into a line of people waiting to cross the highway. I am in a line of military personnel. I pass by a military police officer. In front of her stands a small young man wearing a baggy green jail jumpsuit. He is handcuffed and leg ironed. He stands slumped over, defeated, and I can’t see his face. I end up standing in front of a drill sergeant and we begin to walk across the highway. I begin hearing the military police officer repeatedly say my little brother’s last name. I turn to the drill sergeant and implore him: "Please...I’m his sister...we haven’t heard anything from him and we know his hearing was this morning. Can you please tell me what happened?"
The drill sergeant gives me a confused look and motions towards the slumped over young man in the jail jumpsuit. I take a closer look at the man.
It’s my brother.
I ask him what happened. He says he is going to a military prison for two years. The tears ensue from both he and I. I walk alongside him until we get inside prison walls. I hug him goodbye and tell him I love him and to be strong.
Then I have to tell my family what happened. More tears from everyone.
I don't know if military prison is even an option in his situation. He will probably be kicked out of the Army. Perhaps the bars in my dream represent the way the drugs have trapped him.
I wake up, and it is cloudy and dreary outside. I have this ominous feeling hanging over me. I carry the gravity of the situation on my shoulders like a ton of bricks. I am so sad about the whole thing. I just want him to leave these demons behind him. I do not feel like anything good is going to happen for my baby brother today.
I hope I am wrong. But we all have to live with the decisions we make.
We learned last week that my brother failed two drug tests during the month of January. The levels on the second one were three times higher than the first.
This life cycle of an addict....I cannot understand it. The destructiveness. What seems to be determination to ruin their own lives. My baby brother is different than the brother in between us. He makes huge strides forward and does good. I have such high hopes for him. I know he is smart, sweet, loving and strong (when he isn't using) and I want only good things for him. I know he can have those things, but only if he will forever abandon the drugs. And he always goes back to them. The reality of this crushes those of us close to him, time and again. Why? WHY? Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You should have so much better.
I slept through my alarm this morning. I was not there....I was in the middle of a vivid dream.
In my dream, I am going to Huntsville to interview an inmate there. I park my car and get into a line of people waiting to cross the highway. I am in a line of military personnel. I pass by a military police officer. In front of her stands a small young man wearing a baggy green jail jumpsuit. He is handcuffed and leg ironed. He stands slumped over, defeated, and I can’t see his face. I end up standing in front of a drill sergeant and we begin to walk across the highway. I begin hearing the military police officer repeatedly say my little brother’s last name. I turn to the drill sergeant and implore him: "Please...I’m his sister...we haven’t heard anything from him and we know his hearing was this morning. Can you please tell me what happened?"
The drill sergeant gives me a confused look and motions towards the slumped over young man in the jail jumpsuit. I take a closer look at the man.
It’s my brother.
I ask him what happened. He says he is going to a military prison for two years. The tears ensue from both he and I. I walk alongside him until we get inside prison walls. I hug him goodbye and tell him I love him and to be strong.
Then I have to tell my family what happened. More tears from everyone.
I don't know if military prison is even an option in his situation. He will probably be kicked out of the Army. Perhaps the bars in my dream represent the way the drugs have trapped him.
I wake up, and it is cloudy and dreary outside. I have this ominous feeling hanging over me. I carry the gravity of the situation on my shoulders like a ton of bricks. I am so sad about the whole thing. I just want him to leave these demons behind him. I do not feel like anything good is going to happen for my baby brother today.
I hope I am wrong. But we all have to live with the decisions we make.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Quickly....
Just a few things before I have to get back to work. (Sigh)
***************
Our friend who was in the car wreck is still fighting. He is starting to show some improvement...he's still in a "moderate coma" in the trauma ICU, but has been responding to some stimulation the past couple of days. He wiggled his toes on command, squeezed his mother's hand on command, and gave his family a "thumbs up" when asked to. He has come so far in a week. Baby steps. As long as he is moving forward it is such a great thing. He squeezed my hand a couple of times the other night as well. His nurse cautioned us that he may never wake up any more than he is now. But the improvements over the past few days have given everyone hope. He is not gone, he is in there somewhere...
****************
Family drama this weekend. My brother was arrested yesterday. He is now in jail and nearly took my other (baby) brother with him. Stupid decisions on both their parts. They both refuse to let go of the drugs. It seems as though nothing ever really changes with them. Any time that it seems that they might have moved on or grown up, we are right back here again. Although my youngest brother was not arrested, the military will likely find out what has been going on, and he will pay for it then.
I may write more on this later. I get so frustrated and disappointed in him. I know he can do better. The one who is sitting in jail right now...I don't think that he will ever stop living the life that he is living. He has let drugs take everything from him and still won't stop. Homeless. Jobless. Every problem that he has, he has created with his drug use. It's a terrible thing to say that you have given up on someone, but in his case, I have. He is not the brother I grew up with. That person is gone.
The youngest one could do so much better. I have so much hope for him. It breaks my heart that he keeps doing this to himself. He has so much to lose.
*****************
Dave and I have both had a nasty cold/sore throat/sinus thing. Brooklyn has managed not to catch it so far, hopefully she will keep fighting off all these nasty winter bugs.
I will write a better post soon.
Back to work now.
***************
Our friend who was in the car wreck is still fighting. He is starting to show some improvement...he's still in a "moderate coma" in the trauma ICU, but has been responding to some stimulation the past couple of days. He wiggled his toes on command, squeezed his mother's hand on command, and gave his family a "thumbs up" when asked to. He has come so far in a week. Baby steps. As long as he is moving forward it is such a great thing. He squeezed my hand a couple of times the other night as well. His nurse cautioned us that he may never wake up any more than he is now. But the improvements over the past few days have given everyone hope. He is not gone, he is in there somewhere...
****************
Family drama this weekend. My brother was arrested yesterday. He is now in jail and nearly took my other (baby) brother with him. Stupid decisions on both their parts. They both refuse to let go of the drugs. It seems as though nothing ever really changes with them. Any time that it seems that they might have moved on or grown up, we are right back here again. Although my youngest brother was not arrested, the military will likely find out what has been going on, and he will pay for it then.
I may write more on this later. I get so frustrated and disappointed in him. I know he can do better. The one who is sitting in jail right now...I don't think that he will ever stop living the life that he is living. He has let drugs take everything from him and still won't stop. Homeless. Jobless. Every problem that he has, he has created with his drug use. It's a terrible thing to say that you have given up on someone, but in his case, I have. He is not the brother I grew up with. That person is gone.
The youngest one could do so much better. I have so much hope for him. It breaks my heart that he keeps doing this to himself. He has so much to lose.
*****************
Dave and I have both had a nasty cold/sore throat/sinus thing. Brooklyn has managed not to catch it so far, hopefully she will keep fighting off all these nasty winter bugs.
I will write a better post soon.
Back to work now.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Back in one piece
We had planned to return home on Saturday because my brother was scheduled to ship out to Fort Leonard Wood at 1:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Late Friday, the Army changed his departure time to 1:30 a.m. Sunday morning. My grandparents headed back to Houston as planned on Saturday morning. But my parents, Brooklyn, and I ended up staying another day.
We didn't do a whole lot on Saturday. Jordan was released on his pass that morning and just hung out with us all day. He and my dad went to see a movie and my mom, Brooklyn and I went to the salon so I could get a much-needed haircut. The last time I had one was when I was 7 or 8 months pregnant! Anyways, I had about 5 or 6 inches cut off. It looks better and is much lighter and cooler in the 100 degree heat.
When we took Jordan back to Fort Sill on Saturday night, we were sitting around outside the barracks with him until he had to go inside. This other soldier's wife was sitting near us and had a baby girl in her lap.
"How old is your baby?," she asked me.
"Four months," I replied. "Yours?"
"Seven months." HOLY CRAP. This baby's thigh was at least as big as Brooklyn's waist. I know babies are like the rest of us...they come in all shapes and sizes, but whoa!!!
"How much does she weigh?," the girl inquired.
"10 pounds. What about her?"
"35 pounds." OMG!!!
Now, I'm not one to criticize other people's parenting methods. After all, I'm new to this too. But then the little girl started spitting up something brown. Her dad said, "That's because you gave her that whole damn bottle of Dr. Pepper!" as he pointed at an empty 20 ounce soda bottle sitting next to a sippy cup. Poor kid. All things considered, I think it is probably better for Brooklyn to have weight gain problems than to be in the shape that baby girl was in. Maybe some people just don't know any better.
Eventually the time came for us to tell Jordan goodbye. It was kinda tough. I hated seeing he and my mom cry :( But his AIT school is only 7 weeks long, and he will be home for 2 weeks after that. I think the next goodbye will be harder, because he will be leaving for his permanent duty station, wherever that may be.
Brooklyn did pretty well on the ride home. I was very impressed with her for the entire trip...she slept through the night all 4 nights we were there! I am very thankful for that!
We stopped for lunch in Denton, where I went to college. It has only been 4 years since I graduated, and I was getting sooooooo lost trying to direct my dad to one of my favorite restaurants there. We finally found it and it was no longer Bari's, it was now called Fera's. And they were closed on Sundays. All that for nothing!
We didn't get back to my house until 9:30 at night and I still had to do laundry and some unpacking. Hubby was at work and had left the house quite messy. I got frustrated while cleaning up behind him. He was off for 3 damn days, but uses his off days as play time and doesn't get anything done around the house that needs to be done. Grrrrr. So needless to say, I am a zombie at work today. And I have waaaay too much to get done here. Blah.
Our trip was good, though. I'm glad we went.
We didn't do a whole lot on Saturday. Jordan was released on his pass that morning and just hung out with us all day. He and my dad went to see a movie and my mom, Brooklyn and I went to the salon so I could get a much-needed haircut. The last time I had one was when I was 7 or 8 months pregnant! Anyways, I had about 5 or 6 inches cut off. It looks better and is much lighter and cooler in the 100 degree heat.
When we took Jordan back to Fort Sill on Saturday night, we were sitting around outside the barracks with him until he had to go inside. This other soldier's wife was sitting near us and had a baby girl in her lap.
"How old is your baby?," she asked me.
"Four months," I replied. "Yours?"
"Seven months." HOLY CRAP. This baby's thigh was at least as big as Brooklyn's waist. I know babies are like the rest of us...they come in all shapes and sizes, but whoa!!!
"How much does she weigh?," the girl inquired.
"10 pounds. What about her?"
"35 pounds." OMG!!!
Now, I'm not one to criticize other people's parenting methods. After all, I'm new to this too. But then the little girl started spitting up something brown. Her dad said, "That's because you gave her that whole damn bottle of Dr. Pepper!" as he pointed at an empty 20 ounce soda bottle sitting next to a sippy cup. Poor kid. All things considered, I think it is probably better for Brooklyn to have weight gain problems than to be in the shape that baby girl was in. Maybe some people just don't know any better.
Eventually the time came for us to tell Jordan goodbye. It was kinda tough. I hated seeing he and my mom cry :( But his AIT school is only 7 weeks long, and he will be home for 2 weeks after that. I think the next goodbye will be harder, because he will be leaving for his permanent duty station, wherever that may be.
Brooklyn did pretty well on the ride home. I was very impressed with her for the entire trip...she slept through the night all 4 nights we were there! I am very thankful for that!
We stopped for lunch in Denton, where I went to college. It has only been 4 years since I graduated, and I was getting sooooooo lost trying to direct my dad to one of my favorite restaurants there. We finally found it and it was no longer Bari's, it was now called Fera's. And they were closed on Sundays. All that for nothing!
We didn't get back to my house until 9:30 at night and I still had to do laundry and some unpacking. Hubby was at work and had left the house quite messy. I got frustrated while cleaning up behind him. He was off for 3 damn days, but uses his off days as play time and doesn't get anything done around the house that needs to be done. Grrrrr. So needless to say, I am a zombie at work today. And I have waaaay too much to get done here. Blah.
Our trip was good, though. I'm glad we went.
Friday, July 18, 2008
All is well
We are here in Oklahoma, and things are going just fine! Do I sound shocked? I kinda am, to be honest.
Brooklyn did great during the car ride to Oklahoma. We only stopped twice, once to eat and another to get gas and change and feed the baby. We got here in just over six hours...a little past midnight. She had two screaming fits in the car, and they weren't that bad...maybe 20 minutes each. One was during the time she has to wait between taking one of her medicines and eating. The rest of the time she was either asleep or playing happily.
Then Brooklyn let me sleep from about 2:30 a.m. until 8:00 a.m. on Thursday. We went and watched demonstrations of what my brother, Jordan, has been learning in Army boot camp. It was pretty neat to see what a lot of their physical training has consisted of. It was HOT on that field...but fortunately, the sun stayed behind the clouds throughout the demonstration. I got a little sunburned, but Brooklyn did not, thankfully.
Jordan was released to us and got to spend the day with us. He looks great...so muscular and trim, and so mature. My baby brother is all grown up and a SOLDIER now! I am so proud. It's great to see him. He has made incredible changes in his life this year. He now clearly has confidence in himself and pride in serving his country. Amazing. We went out to eat and hung out back at the hotel until he had to return to the Army base.
This morning was Jordan's graduation. Brooklyn had slept through the night again, this time from 11 p.m. until 7:30 a.m.!!! Wow! So I was feeling good, and I could tell she was happy too. I wore her in her sling to the graduation. She was so nice and quiet during the ceremony! She slept through most of it. She woke up a couple of times and started to fuss when loud noises scared her, but I just bounced her a little and she calmed down. The graduation was really cool...I had never been to a military ceremony before. Jordan was so serious and professional-looking, dressed up so sharp in his class A uniform. He is official now!
I'm back at the hotel now. We went to eat lunch, and Jordan wanted to go buy some CD's. Brooklyn has been fussy at lunch and finally went to sleep, so we are staying here for a bit so she can rest and I can pump. We will drive back home tomorrow afternoon. I hope that car ride is as good as the other one!
Brooklyn did great during the car ride to Oklahoma. We only stopped twice, once to eat and another to get gas and change and feed the baby. We got here in just over six hours...a little past midnight. She had two screaming fits in the car, and they weren't that bad...maybe 20 minutes each. One was during the time she has to wait between taking one of her medicines and eating. The rest of the time she was either asleep or playing happily.
Then Brooklyn let me sleep from about 2:30 a.m. until 8:00 a.m. on Thursday. We went and watched demonstrations of what my brother, Jordan, has been learning in Army boot camp. It was pretty neat to see what a lot of their physical training has consisted of. It was HOT on that field...but fortunately, the sun stayed behind the clouds throughout the demonstration. I got a little sunburned, but Brooklyn did not, thankfully.
Jordan was released to us and got to spend the day with us. He looks great...so muscular and trim, and so mature. My baby brother is all grown up and a SOLDIER now! I am so proud. It's great to see him. He has made incredible changes in his life this year. He now clearly has confidence in himself and pride in serving his country. Amazing. We went out to eat and hung out back at the hotel until he had to return to the Army base.
This morning was Jordan's graduation. Brooklyn had slept through the night again, this time from 11 p.m. until 7:30 a.m.!!! Wow! So I was feeling good, and I could tell she was happy too. I wore her in her sling to the graduation. She was so nice and quiet during the ceremony! She slept through most of it. She woke up a couple of times and started to fuss when loud noises scared her, but I just bounced her a little and she calmed down. The graduation was really cool...I had never been to a military ceremony before. Jordan was so serious and professional-looking, dressed up so sharp in his class A uniform. He is official now!
I'm back at the hotel now. We went to eat lunch, and Jordan wanted to go buy some CD's. Brooklyn has been fussy at lunch and finally went to sleep, so we are staying here for a bit so she can rest and I can pump. We will drive back home tomorrow afternoon. I hope that car ride is as good as the other one!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Road trippin'
Tomorrow Brooklyn will have her first road trip ever. We are going to Fort Sill, Oklahoma to see my baby brother graduate from Army boot camp!
I am excited to see my brother and I really want to see him graduate. However, the whole road trip thing has me pretty stressed out. My hubby is not going with us because he has a training class for work that he has to attend all week. So it will be Brooklyn, my mom and dad, and myself. My grandparents on my mom's side will be meeting us in Oklahoma. We will leave on Wednesday evening and be back Saturday afternoon.
The first thing that I am freaking out about is packing. I cannot believe all the stuff I am bringing for Brooklyn! The tiniest little person...with waaaaay more stuff than anyone else! Suitcase with her clothes, lap pads, burp cloths, blankets, and tolietries, diaper bag, pack of Huggies, wipes, formula can, breast pump, Boppy, swing, car seat, medicines and syringes, bottles, dish soap and bottle brush, bottle drying tree, sling...what else do I need? I'm sure I am forgetting something really important!!!
I hate travelling with my dad. He always made family trips so miserable when I was growing up by just being an asshole. He gets all stressed out and grumpy and makes everyone miserable. Then we throw in the possibility that Brooklyn will have one of her nighttime multi-hour screaming marathons in the car. Not fun for anyone!!!! And I don't really know how my dad will react to the shrieking. Not well, I would imagine.
It's a six-hour trip. We will leave as soon as I get home from work tomorrow. That would put us in Oklahoma around midnight only if we didn't make any stops, which of course won't happen with a newborn baby. And stops for gas and peeing. Who knows what time we will actually make it there. Did I mention that when I was a kid, I had a ridiculously small bladder, and my dad would hardly ever stop when I needed to pee? So I would get so stressed out about it that I would only drink a few sips of water for a 2 or 3 day trip out of state. That still makes me nervous!!! But I digress.
Then we will get to the hotel. Brooklyn has been doing pretty good on the sleeping at night for the past couple of weeks, except for the last two nights, when she has slept about 2 hours. But I still can't really sleep when it is me and her alone. And we will be alone in our hotel room for 3 nights. I am freaked out by that. What if something happens to her???
SIGH.
I just have to keep reminding myself that this is a good thing...I get to see my baby brother. I get to see him as a soldier. He is super excited to see all of us. I am so proud of him. He has really turned his life around over the past few months. He made a very mature and responsible decision to enlist in the Army. I want him to know that we support him and love him and show him how proud we are of him.
So...keep us in your thoughts, I am going to remind myself to take deep breaths and calm down. Hopefully it will all go smoothly. I hate to sound negative. I know it sounds like I am just stressing myself out needlessly by expecting the worst. But that just seems to be the way my brain works lately.
Can anyone tell me about your experiences traveling with babies? How do you keep your sanity? Any tricks for keeping baby calm in the car? I always appreciate your words of wisdom and experience :)
I am excited to see my brother and I really want to see him graduate. However, the whole road trip thing has me pretty stressed out. My hubby is not going with us because he has a training class for work that he has to attend all week. So it will be Brooklyn, my mom and dad, and myself. My grandparents on my mom's side will be meeting us in Oklahoma. We will leave on Wednesday evening and be back Saturday afternoon.
The first thing that I am freaking out about is packing. I cannot believe all the stuff I am bringing for Brooklyn! The tiniest little person...with waaaaay more stuff than anyone else! Suitcase with her clothes, lap pads, burp cloths, blankets, and tolietries, diaper bag, pack of Huggies, wipes, formula can, breast pump, Boppy, swing, car seat, medicines and syringes, bottles, dish soap and bottle brush, bottle drying tree, sling...what else do I need? I'm sure I am forgetting something really important!!!
I hate travelling with my dad. He always made family trips so miserable when I was growing up by just being an asshole. He gets all stressed out and grumpy and makes everyone miserable. Then we throw in the possibility that Brooklyn will have one of her nighttime multi-hour screaming marathons in the car. Not fun for anyone!!!! And I don't really know how my dad will react to the shrieking. Not well, I would imagine.
It's a six-hour trip. We will leave as soon as I get home from work tomorrow. That would put us in Oklahoma around midnight only if we didn't make any stops, which of course won't happen with a newborn baby. And stops for gas and peeing. Who knows what time we will actually make it there. Did I mention that when I was a kid, I had a ridiculously small bladder, and my dad would hardly ever stop when I needed to pee? So I would get so stressed out about it that I would only drink a few sips of water for a 2 or 3 day trip out of state. That still makes me nervous!!! But I digress.
Then we will get to the hotel. Brooklyn has been doing pretty good on the sleeping at night for the past couple of weeks, except for the last two nights, when she has slept about 2 hours. But I still can't really sleep when it is me and her alone. And we will be alone in our hotel room for 3 nights. I am freaked out by that. What if something happens to her???
SIGH.
I just have to keep reminding myself that this is a good thing...I get to see my baby brother. I get to see him as a soldier. He is super excited to see all of us. I am so proud of him. He has really turned his life around over the past few months. He made a very mature and responsible decision to enlist in the Army. I want him to know that we support him and love him and show him how proud we are of him.
So...keep us in your thoughts, I am going to remind myself to take deep breaths and calm down. Hopefully it will all go smoothly. I hate to sound negative. I know it sounds like I am just stressing myself out needlessly by expecting the worst. But that just seems to be the way my brain works lately.
Can anyone tell me about your experiences traveling with babies? How do you keep your sanity? Any tricks for keeping baby calm in the car? I always appreciate your words of wisdom and experience :)
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The stranger I once knew
So this morning, I was about to walk into my office building. I happened to glance over my shoulder before entering the building and saw a homeless man walking across the street. He was rail-thin and bald. He was wearing a backpack, sunglasses, and headphones, and walked with his head down. He was a pitiful sight. A body eaten away by drugs. A poster child for why children should just say no. I froze and stared. He didn’t look my way. My thoughts raced as I debated whether I should say something to him. Should I run across the street and catch up to him? Call his name?
How did I know his name? Why would I talk to him?
He’s my little brother.
And I chose to silently turn around and walk into my office building. The security guard inside had seen me staring at my brother. He gave me this raised-eyebrow look, like, "Yeah, look at that crazy guy." I stuttered, "Ummm, no, uh, that’s my middle brother." "Oh...sorry." "No," I said, "the look you gave me was right. Don’t worry about it."
I went up the elevator to my office. I looked out the window. I couldn’t see him anymore. Gone. Just like that. Almost like seeing a ghost.
When I think about it, I did see a ghost...a ghost of my past, a ghost of my childhood. A ghost of the brother I knew before methamphetamine and cocaine and LSD and pills and pretty much every other drug he could get his hands on turned him into a person I don’t know. Before he tore apart my family time and time again, and before he broke our trust a million times over.
And now I see him on the street, and he doesn’t see me, and I don’t say anything. I walk away because I don’t want to be hurt again.
My brother. My flesh and blood. How sad is that?
How did I know his name? Why would I talk to him?
He’s my little brother.
And I chose to silently turn around and walk into my office building. The security guard inside had seen me staring at my brother. He gave me this raised-eyebrow look, like, "Yeah, look at that crazy guy." I stuttered, "Ummm, no, uh, that’s my middle brother." "Oh...sorry." "No," I said, "the look you gave me was right. Don’t worry about it."
I went up the elevator to my office. I looked out the window. I couldn’t see him anymore. Gone. Just like that. Almost like seeing a ghost.
When I think about it, I did see a ghost...a ghost of my past, a ghost of my childhood. A ghost of the brother I knew before methamphetamine and cocaine and LSD and pills and pretty much every other drug he could get his hands on turned him into a person I don’t know. Before he tore apart my family time and time again, and before he broke our trust a million times over.
And now I see him on the street, and he doesn’t see me, and I don’t say anything. I walk away because I don’t want to be hurt again.
My brother. My flesh and blood. How sad is that?
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