I have not been doing well the last few days.
You probably have not noticed, if you do not keep close contact with me.
Hell, even if you do talk with me regularly, it still might not have been apparent. I will shove back my feelings, and laugh-even as I am hollow inside. I want to hide from most people, so maybe it hasn't been apparent at all.
Who knows.
To me, it's obvious.
I don't like the way I'm feeling. I'm angry all the time. At everyone.
The people I'm closest to have been the ones I lash out at. I see myself doing it. And I can't stop it.
If the anger dies down, the hurt takes over.
And then I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't function.
At least when I'm angry, or numb, I can get through my day. Autopilot.
Right now, the anger has subsided some. I finally opened up to some people today, my dad included.
The problem is, I'm sick of talking about it.
I'm so sick of repeating the words.
My mom died.
She died.
That's my reality. It's my identity. I'm not Jessica. I'm the girl who's mom died.
I'm not me anymore.
I don't know if I will ever be me again. It doesn't feel like it. I am changing. I am different that I was.
A friend told me, "Of course this will change you. Everything will be different. And in the end, you won't want to be the old you."
Maybe one day, that will be true. Maybe I will come out of this stronger. Better.
But right now? No. I am not stronger. I am less of a mother. Less of a friend. Less than.
Nothing matters. Nothing is important. I dread the passage of time. I resent the seasons.
It has gotten to the point where the messages from people are fewer, less and less people check up on me. This is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, like I said, I am angry. So the messages that pop up, they aggravate me. How am I?? Ha. Have I found out how my mom died yet??? Seriously?? That's what you want to ask me?? As if you want to know any more than I do. As if you could possibly be more affected by this than I am. Get real.
I'm short with my answers, if I answer at all. That's not fair, I know these people care. But, I can't help it.
So the messages are fewer. Days stretch between people "checking in". And I'm not getting any better.
The façade that I have been putting up is cracking. I sat down to write this blog tonight, and I started bawling in the middle of it. My heart just hurts. I want to be better. I'm disappointed in myself. I feel like I'm letting everyone down, especially my kids. All they get is a mom, who goes through the motions but isn't present. Not like before. And my mom would be on me about keeping these boys happy and healthy. I can hear her voice, telling me to get off my ass and keep my head up for these babies.
But, her voice is far away. Only in memories now. And the enormity of that...it just hurts.
I've not been okay.
I don't know when I'll be okay again.
A song that reminds me of her.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Monday, September 25, 2017
Just Like A Crow Chasing The Butterfly
It's a cold and rainy morning. One I typically would love. I love fall; feeling the first cool days after summer wears itself out. My mom and I both loved cooler weather, even though we both grew up in California. It seems kind of silly, you would think we would be conditioned for hot weather, and sitting next to the ocean. But hot and sweaty just wasn't our thing. I daresay it was one of the things my mom enjoyed most about Nebraska- the changing of the seasons. Fall is nice here, we actually get the changing of the leaves as the temperature drops.
It's cold and rainy now, and because of that I feel like she's around.
So many people have said "She'll never leave."
"She's always watching out for you."
"You are never alone."
Token things you said to someone who is grieving. I don't mean that with disrespect. I, too, have said similar things to friends or family that has lost someone dear to them. It's supposed to be comforting, knowing that your loved one is still close, even if their physical body is no longer here.
I wanted to reject these comments. It made me bitter.
No, see- She DID leave. She's not here. I AM alone. I can't see her, or touch her, or hear her, or smell her any more. She's. Not. Here.
That's angry Jessica. On top of the immense sadness I feel, there is so much anger that I don't know what to do with. Oh, I'm angry at everyone. It's not fair, and it doesn't make sense. But, I'm angry at everyone.
The first few days after my mom passed, I would be at a stoplight, staring off into space. I would notice cars turning or passing by, some being driven by elderly individuals. I would feel the anger rise in my throat like bile. "Why not YOU? You are well passed my mom's age. You lived your life. WHY. NOT. YOU." Thinking terrible things. Shouting, screaming in my head. "Why take my mom? She had so much left to do. So many plans. She was so. fucking. young."
That's not fair, though. I can't be mad at a little old man driving his car. I can't wish for the sacrifice of someone else, to bring my mom back. That's morbid, and wrong. I know this, in the part of my brain that's still rational. That part, though, seems much smaller and far away than the rest of my brain that is still in shock. The rational part takes a back seat to all the other things I've been thinking and feeling.
I'm angry at everyone on social media. It's almost laughable. (In fact the one that would laugh the most about it is my mom)
I'll be scrolling through my Facebook news feed. People just posting about their daily lives, you know, using Facebook the way it's intended....and I hate them. Oh, good, I'm glad you're having an AWESOME time in Mexico. Oh wow, look at what you made for dinner. Gosh, so riveting. So many memes. So many happy freaking people. Or even worse, people that aren't happy, that are complaining about stupid, meaningless things...(which I am also, totally guilty of). I hate them all. I find myself scrolling faster and faster until the words are blurred, and really now it's just something to do with my hands. My mind isn't tracking. I don't really care. I'm just angry.
I know that will get better with time. But the anger scares me a bit. I don't like not feeling in control of my own emotions.
So angry Jessica is still around, hearing those comments about how "She'll never leave" me, even though she did.
But, I wanted to talk about some of the things that have happened since my mom's death, that make me believe that maybe there's something to that whole "She's always with you" line.
My mom died on a Tuesday morning (tomorrow will be exactly two weeks). That day was a blur. I don't want to go into what I felt when I found out. It's not pretty. It hurts. But that is the day that some thing started. Actually, Monday evening I had my best friend over and we were playing outside with the kids. Butterflies were EVERYWHERE. They were all over town, not just at my house, but regardless, my street was just covered with butterflies floating in the wind. It was crazy, and fun.
Tuesday happened. And one thing that stands out were those butterflies. Oh, there were everywhere. I have a small patch of Lavender in a planter by my front door. Every time I would walk out of the house, dozens of butterflies would flutter around me. I admit I didn't think too much of it, until I got to my parent's house and I was talking to my aunts. Those butterflies meant something. Talking about it made me sure, that they were meant for me. The butterfly thing will come full circle, but let's move on to Wednesday.
Wednesday my dad and I had to go to the funeral home. As you can imagine, it was a very hard day. My dad and I sat opposite each other with the funeral director at the head of the table. Early on in our appointment the director mentioned to us that he was the only one in the building, and that if the phone rang or someone came in, he would have to quickly take care of it and then he would be back with us. Totally fine. Our appointment went along, talking about terribly hard things, making terribly hard decisions. We had just gotten on to the topic of having a rabbi perform the service, something my dad and I were still undecided about. My mom was Jewish, and though she wasn't orthodox and she didn't attend Temple, we still wanted to honor her in the best way possible. So, as the three of us are discussing that, and if it's something we would like to look in to, the phone rang. The funeral director excused himself to go answer the phone, and at the point his chair was pointing towards me My dad looks at me and says something to the effect of "Well, what do you think, should we go for a rabbi?" And, before I can answer, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something moving. Both my dad and I turned our heads to look, and the funeral director's chair is turning, from facing me to pointing directly to my dad.
We don't say anything, we look at the chair and then back at each other, then back to the chair.
My dad says "So....we're getting a rabbi I guess."
And I reply with "Yep, that just happened."
Let me interject here, and tell you something about myself. I fully, 100% believe in spirits. My whole life I have gotten feelings, and seen things, things that I just can't explain. I don't know where all that falls in with faith, or heaven, or hell, or God. All I know is, I believe in the possibility of there still being certain presences here on Earth, after death. I always have. Typically, that frightens me. Some of the things I have encountered have not been pleasant. I believe that there can be just as many malevolent spirits that wish to scare and disturb us, as there are good spirits that are around to comfort us. This is just a personal belief. Take it for what you will. The point is, the idea scares me. The unknown scares me.
This being said, when my dad and I watched the chair move at the funeral home, I felt no fear. I wasn't scared, I was comforted and maybe a little amused, despite the situation.
Later that day, I went back home. I walked up to my door about was literally swarmed by butterflies. I felt each individual butterfly as they floated around me, I felt the brush of their wings against my face. And I thought out of nowhere, so clearly, "Hello, Momma." It didn't even feel like my own thought. It was an unconscious acknowledgement, that the butterflies were there for a reason, and that their presence was more than just insects hanging around flowers.
I went inside and discussed things with my husband and I started crying again. Continued crying for a while. I decided I wanted to get out of the house for a bit (something that I would need to do a lot), and clear my mind. I opened the door and stood outside, still talking about my mom. Still talking about things I didn't want to be talking about anymore. I said to my husband "Okay, I don't want to talk about this anymore." and turned away towards my car. As I did, a butterfly slapped right into my face. I laughed. Sorry, Mom.
Every time I got into the car on Wednesday, one of our songs was playing. I'm not kidding, every single time. It must have happened at least 4 or 5 times. In one day. It was either Bon Jovi, or Def Leppard, or Heart, or something that meant something to me, or to her. Songs that I hadn't heard on the radio for years started playing. And they would start right when I would start the car, or change the station. I have another example that I will talk about in a second.
Another day that week, at a particularly low point as I was driving to my parent's house, I said out loud, " Okay Momma. I'm drowning here. I need something from you. I need a really clear sign. Come to me in a dream. Something. I need you." (Seems a little silly now, as I type this all out. She was being pretty clear there for a while.) I went to bed that night thinking, "Okay, maybe she'll be in my dreams tonight, I'm sure she heard me."
She did not come to me in my dream. In fact, she still hasn't. But, that night I did not dream of my mom. I woke up sad. I received a text message from my best friend a little bit later that said "Listen, I don't want to freak you out, but your mom came to me last night." And after talking to that friend, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt, my mom was indeed with her that night. She described a situation that she saw in her dream, that really happened. And there was no way she could have known that it did. And she described my mom's presence, that I would later feel myself, and knew it to be true.
One evening, I needed to get away again. I needed to just drive. So I got into my car, expecting to hear one of mom's songs. I flipped through all of the channels and was disappointed to find none of our songs playing. I said out loud "Damnit Mom!", but before I could even finish saying those two words, "Vogue" by Madonna started playing. Let me explain. My mom always told this story of me as a baby. Before I could really walk well, my mom was playing Madonna's Hits (I believe on record!) and apparently, I pulled myself up on a table and started bopping to the beat. As I grew up, my mom and I listened to Madonna often, and my favorites to listen to with her were "Like a Prayer" and, you guessed it, "Vogue". My mom and I would dance in the car, and I would watch with total and complete adoration as my mom "vogued" and we would "strike a pose" together.
So, "Vogue" starts as I'm driving, and I start laugh/crying. And I feel jolts of electricity down my right side. The air in the car changes. I have goosebumps down my right arm and leg, my heart is beating like crazy. I can FEEL my mom. She's in the car with me. I FELT her, her big personality, this huge presence. It was like, if I reached out next to me, I would feel something solid. She is there, I know it. I have her in the car with me. Making me sing the song with her. I can hear her voice. I am not afraid. I'm not ashamed, (though I supposed maybe I should be. If anyone looked into my car that evening, they saw a crazy laugh/crying psycho blasting Madonna), It feels natural, and normal. Just driving with my mom. Something we had done thousands of times. I got that feeling of comfort again.
Coming home that same evening, as soon as I got into the car, Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" came on, and I again knew it was her. I cranked it up and cried all the way home.
She was with me one morning, after I dropped the kids off at school. Clear as day I hear in my head "Call NPPD". I knew we were behind on our electricity payment, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough. I heard her voice say that, and I argued back in my head not really even thinking about it. "It can wait," I told myself. I turned the radio on....and it was a NPPD commercial.
I called NPPD when I got home.
I felt her with me on the day of her funeral. That whole day was hard, and a story for another time, but she cracked a joke to me during a certain time, and I came to find out later, at the same time my dad was getting his hand squeezed by her. We both had to bite our lips from laughing, during a situation that wasn't very funny. But, it would have been-to her.
Each one of these things has come with the same sense of peace, and comfort, and humor. That really how I know it's my mom. Nothing else could give me a sense of peace and security in this time, aside from her. When the anger rises back up, I think on the times that she's been around, even after she's gone. And I think, she wants me to chill out. She wants me to put my head up, push my shoulders back, and walk tall.
So, that's what I keep trying to do.
I'll have more to write soon. Thank you for caring enough about me, and about my mom, to read these.
Until next time,
Jessica.
It's cold and rainy now, and because of that I feel like she's around.
So many people have said "She'll never leave."
"She's always watching out for you."
"You are never alone."
Token things you said to someone who is grieving. I don't mean that with disrespect. I, too, have said similar things to friends or family that has lost someone dear to them. It's supposed to be comforting, knowing that your loved one is still close, even if their physical body is no longer here.
I wanted to reject these comments. It made me bitter.
No, see- She DID leave. She's not here. I AM alone. I can't see her, or touch her, or hear her, or smell her any more. She's. Not. Here.
That's angry Jessica. On top of the immense sadness I feel, there is so much anger that I don't know what to do with. Oh, I'm angry at everyone. It's not fair, and it doesn't make sense. But, I'm angry at everyone.
The first few days after my mom passed, I would be at a stoplight, staring off into space. I would notice cars turning or passing by, some being driven by elderly individuals. I would feel the anger rise in my throat like bile. "Why not YOU? You are well passed my mom's age. You lived your life. WHY. NOT. YOU." Thinking terrible things. Shouting, screaming in my head. "Why take my mom? She had so much left to do. So many plans. She was so. fucking. young."
That's not fair, though. I can't be mad at a little old man driving his car. I can't wish for the sacrifice of someone else, to bring my mom back. That's morbid, and wrong. I know this, in the part of my brain that's still rational. That part, though, seems much smaller and far away than the rest of my brain that is still in shock. The rational part takes a back seat to all the other things I've been thinking and feeling.
I'm angry at everyone on social media. It's almost laughable. (In fact the one that would laugh the most about it is my mom)
I'll be scrolling through my Facebook news feed. People just posting about their daily lives, you know, using Facebook the way it's intended....and I hate them. Oh, good, I'm glad you're having an AWESOME time in Mexico. Oh wow, look at what you made for dinner. Gosh, so riveting. So many memes. So many happy freaking people. Or even worse, people that aren't happy, that are complaining about stupid, meaningless things...(which I am also, totally guilty of). I hate them all. I find myself scrolling faster and faster until the words are blurred, and really now it's just something to do with my hands. My mind isn't tracking. I don't really care. I'm just angry.
I know that will get better with time. But the anger scares me a bit. I don't like not feeling in control of my own emotions.
So angry Jessica is still around, hearing those comments about how "She'll never leave" me, even though she did.
But, I wanted to talk about some of the things that have happened since my mom's death, that make me believe that maybe there's something to that whole "She's always with you" line.
My mom died on a Tuesday morning (tomorrow will be exactly two weeks). That day was a blur. I don't want to go into what I felt when I found out. It's not pretty. It hurts. But that is the day that some thing started. Actually, Monday evening I had my best friend over and we were playing outside with the kids. Butterflies were EVERYWHERE. They were all over town, not just at my house, but regardless, my street was just covered with butterflies floating in the wind. It was crazy, and fun.
Tuesday happened. And one thing that stands out were those butterflies. Oh, there were everywhere. I have a small patch of Lavender in a planter by my front door. Every time I would walk out of the house, dozens of butterflies would flutter around me. I admit I didn't think too much of it, until I got to my parent's house and I was talking to my aunts. Those butterflies meant something. Talking about it made me sure, that they were meant for me. The butterfly thing will come full circle, but let's move on to Wednesday.
Wednesday my dad and I had to go to the funeral home. As you can imagine, it was a very hard day. My dad and I sat opposite each other with the funeral director at the head of the table. Early on in our appointment the director mentioned to us that he was the only one in the building, and that if the phone rang or someone came in, he would have to quickly take care of it and then he would be back with us. Totally fine. Our appointment went along, talking about terribly hard things, making terribly hard decisions. We had just gotten on to the topic of having a rabbi perform the service, something my dad and I were still undecided about. My mom was Jewish, and though she wasn't orthodox and she didn't attend Temple, we still wanted to honor her in the best way possible. So, as the three of us are discussing that, and if it's something we would like to look in to, the phone rang. The funeral director excused himself to go answer the phone, and at the point his chair was pointing towards me My dad looks at me and says something to the effect of "Well, what do you think, should we go for a rabbi?" And, before I can answer, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something moving. Both my dad and I turned our heads to look, and the funeral director's chair is turning, from facing me to pointing directly to my dad.
We don't say anything, we look at the chair and then back at each other, then back to the chair.
My dad says "So....we're getting a rabbi I guess."
And I reply with "Yep, that just happened."
Let me interject here, and tell you something about myself. I fully, 100% believe in spirits. My whole life I have gotten feelings, and seen things, things that I just can't explain. I don't know where all that falls in with faith, or heaven, or hell, or God. All I know is, I believe in the possibility of there still being certain presences here on Earth, after death. I always have. Typically, that frightens me. Some of the things I have encountered have not been pleasant. I believe that there can be just as many malevolent spirits that wish to scare and disturb us, as there are good spirits that are around to comfort us. This is just a personal belief. Take it for what you will. The point is, the idea scares me. The unknown scares me.
This being said, when my dad and I watched the chair move at the funeral home, I felt no fear. I wasn't scared, I was comforted and maybe a little amused, despite the situation.
Later that day, I went back home. I walked up to my door about was literally swarmed by butterflies. I felt each individual butterfly as they floated around me, I felt the brush of their wings against my face. And I thought out of nowhere, so clearly, "Hello, Momma." It didn't even feel like my own thought. It was an unconscious acknowledgement, that the butterflies were there for a reason, and that their presence was more than just insects hanging around flowers.
I went inside and discussed things with my husband and I started crying again. Continued crying for a while. I decided I wanted to get out of the house for a bit (something that I would need to do a lot), and clear my mind. I opened the door and stood outside, still talking about my mom. Still talking about things I didn't want to be talking about anymore. I said to my husband "Okay, I don't want to talk about this anymore." and turned away towards my car. As I did, a butterfly slapped right into my face. I laughed. Sorry, Mom.
Every time I got into the car on Wednesday, one of our songs was playing. I'm not kidding, every single time. It must have happened at least 4 or 5 times. In one day. It was either Bon Jovi, or Def Leppard, or Heart, or something that meant something to me, or to her. Songs that I hadn't heard on the radio for years started playing. And they would start right when I would start the car, or change the station. I have another example that I will talk about in a second.
Another day that week, at a particularly low point as I was driving to my parent's house, I said out loud, " Okay Momma. I'm drowning here. I need something from you. I need a really clear sign. Come to me in a dream. Something. I need you." (Seems a little silly now, as I type this all out. She was being pretty clear there for a while.) I went to bed that night thinking, "Okay, maybe she'll be in my dreams tonight, I'm sure she heard me."
She did not come to me in my dream. In fact, she still hasn't. But, that night I did not dream of my mom. I woke up sad. I received a text message from my best friend a little bit later that said "Listen, I don't want to freak you out, but your mom came to me last night." And after talking to that friend, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt, my mom was indeed with her that night. She described a situation that she saw in her dream, that really happened. And there was no way she could have known that it did. And she described my mom's presence, that I would later feel myself, and knew it to be true.
One evening, I needed to get away again. I needed to just drive. So I got into my car, expecting to hear one of mom's songs. I flipped through all of the channels and was disappointed to find none of our songs playing. I said out loud "Damnit Mom!", but before I could even finish saying those two words, "Vogue" by Madonna started playing. Let me explain. My mom always told this story of me as a baby. Before I could really walk well, my mom was playing Madonna's Hits (I believe on record!) and apparently, I pulled myself up on a table and started bopping to the beat. As I grew up, my mom and I listened to Madonna often, and my favorites to listen to with her were "Like a Prayer" and, you guessed it, "Vogue". My mom and I would dance in the car, and I would watch with total and complete adoration as my mom "vogued" and we would "strike a pose" together.
So, "Vogue" starts as I'm driving, and I start laugh/crying. And I feel jolts of electricity down my right side. The air in the car changes. I have goosebumps down my right arm and leg, my heart is beating like crazy. I can FEEL my mom. She's in the car with me. I FELT her, her big personality, this huge presence. It was like, if I reached out next to me, I would feel something solid. She is there, I know it. I have her in the car with me. Making me sing the song with her. I can hear her voice. I am not afraid. I'm not ashamed, (though I supposed maybe I should be. If anyone looked into my car that evening, they saw a crazy laugh/crying psycho blasting Madonna), It feels natural, and normal. Just driving with my mom. Something we had done thousands of times. I got that feeling of comfort again.
Coming home that same evening, as soon as I got into the car, Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" came on, and I again knew it was her. I cranked it up and cried all the way home.
She was with me one morning, after I dropped the kids off at school. Clear as day I hear in my head "Call NPPD". I knew we were behind on our electricity payment, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough. I heard her voice say that, and I argued back in my head not really even thinking about it. "It can wait," I told myself. I turned the radio on....and it was a NPPD commercial.
I called NPPD when I got home.
I felt her with me on the day of her funeral. That whole day was hard, and a story for another time, but she cracked a joke to me during a certain time, and I came to find out later, at the same time my dad was getting his hand squeezed by her. We both had to bite our lips from laughing, during a situation that wasn't very funny. But, it would have been-to her.
Each one of these things has come with the same sense of peace, and comfort, and humor. That really how I know it's my mom. Nothing else could give me a sense of peace and security in this time, aside from her. When the anger rises back up, I think on the times that she's been around, even after she's gone. And I think, she wants me to chill out. She wants me to put my head up, push my shoulders back, and walk tall.
So, that's what I keep trying to do.
I'll have more to write soon. Thank you for caring enough about me, and about my mom, to read these.
Until next time,
Jessica.
The new tattoo I got for my mom. I think you know why.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
In One Second, Everything Changes.
When I went through tough things in the past, writing it all seemed to help me. I am hoping that maybe it will have the same therapeutic effects for me now.
My life has changed so drastically since my last blog post. But, this month...my world stopped.
On Tuesday, September 12th, 2017, my mom died.
Without warning, without illness, without answers.
There's so much I want to say, but my mind is still so scrambled and nothing makes sense.
Right now, it still feels very surreal. Like she's on vacation, and she'll come home any minute. Like she'll walk through the door, laughing, and wrap her arms around me in press a big smacking kiss on my cheek, literally saying "MMMMMWAAHHHH" as she does it.
I can hear her so clearly that it seems almost possible that she's just in the other room.
But she isn't.
Damnit, I had all these things I wanted to say. All these "otherworldly" experiences I wanted to share. I wanted to talk about what it was like to speak at my mom's funeral, with a crippling case of stage fright. I wanted to recount the last day I had with my mom. I wanted to open up and get all of these feelings out.
But I just can't get it out.
Today was my first day back to work and it was so hard to pretend like everything is okay.
It isn't. It feels like it won't ever be okay.
I miss my mom. I miss her so much I can't breathe. I can't think right. I'm terrified for my dad. I'm terrified for ME. I'm not ready to be without her.
I'm 28. I'm an adult. I have children of my own. I've been living on my own for years. But I am not ready to be without my mommy. This is not how it was supposed to be.
My heart is broken. It HURTS. Everything aches. Even as I smile and try to get through my day.
I want my mom back. I cannot do this alone.
I'm sorry. I wanted to write more. I just can't yet.
Maybe next time.
Until then, if you know me personally, maybe just check in on me. Stop and make sure I am not wallowing. That's all I want to do, is run and hide. If you know me, maybe just...help me not do that.
I don't like asking for help. The person who knew that most is gone now. But I know she would want me to reach out for support.
My life has changed so drastically since my last blog post. But, this month...my world stopped.
On Tuesday, September 12th, 2017, my mom died.
Without warning, without illness, without answers.
There's so much I want to say, but my mind is still so scrambled and nothing makes sense.
Right now, it still feels very surreal. Like she's on vacation, and she'll come home any minute. Like she'll walk through the door, laughing, and wrap her arms around me in press a big smacking kiss on my cheek, literally saying "MMMMMWAAHHHH" as she does it.
I can hear her so clearly that it seems almost possible that she's just in the other room.
But she isn't.
Damnit, I had all these things I wanted to say. All these "otherworldly" experiences I wanted to share. I wanted to talk about what it was like to speak at my mom's funeral, with a crippling case of stage fright. I wanted to recount the last day I had with my mom. I wanted to open up and get all of these feelings out.
But I just can't get it out.
Today was my first day back to work and it was so hard to pretend like everything is okay.
It isn't. It feels like it won't ever be okay.
I miss my mom. I miss her so much I can't breathe. I can't think right. I'm terrified for my dad. I'm terrified for ME. I'm not ready to be without her.
I'm 28. I'm an adult. I have children of my own. I've been living on my own for years. But I am not ready to be without my mommy. This is not how it was supposed to be.
My heart is broken. It HURTS. Everything aches. Even as I smile and try to get through my day.
I want my mom back. I cannot do this alone.
I'm sorry. I wanted to write more. I just can't yet.
Maybe next time.
Until then, if you know me personally, maybe just check in on me. Stop and make sure I am not wallowing. That's all I want to do, is run and hide. If you know me, maybe just...help me not do that.
I don't like asking for help. The person who knew that most is gone now. But I know she would want me to reach out for support.
Cathy Henderson
April 23, 1964 - September 12, 2017
Saturday, August 23, 2014
The Four Byrd Boys
I have been way behind in my blogging, and I apologize. I
have so much that I want to write about, in all aspects of my life. But today,
I’m going to do an update on ALLLLLL of the Byrd Boys! (There’s 4 of ‘em, you
know.)
---AIDEN---
Aiden has been doing so well. I could not be more proud of
my oldest boy. Speech problems, behavior
problems- they are all a thing of the past. Sure, the kid is 4 (going on 12)
and cops a ‘tude every now and then, but that’s pretty normal for a little boy.
He is so smart, and so loving. I don’t know why, but I was expecting the worst
when we had both the twins back home. I wasn’t SO apprehensive when it came to
Aiden, but I was worried that he may get his feelings hurt when mommy had to
tend to two new babies instead of play all day with him. However, Aiden took to
being a big brother better than I could have ever hoped. I mean, he knew he was
Jaxon’s brother but because they’re so close in age, I don’t think he ever
registered being a BIG brother. As soon as the babies were settled and he overcame
being shy around them, he started to step into the role of their protector and
loves on them CONSTANTLY. I’ll walk out
of the room for a second and when I come back in; he’s hugging, kissing,
talking, and always trying to make them laugh. He’s so gentle with them; I’ve rarely
had to correct him around them. He knows that they are little and precious and
loves them so much. It just makes me so happy. He is still my sensitive boy. He
is very kind hearted, silly, and...well...kinda clumsy. Haha. He is fully potty
trained, with very few accidents here and there. He loves dinosaurs, robots
(including transformers) and loves to dance and sing. His favorite color is RED
(which he will remind you-constantly) His favorite songs are “Lucy in the Sky
with Diamonds”, “Hey Jude”, “Let It Go” and “Robot Rock”. His favorite foods are fruits (peaches,
apples, grapes, melon, oranges), cereals, and pizza. I just asked him what he
wants for his birthday and he says “Presents.” Lol. I asked him to narrow it
down and he said.....”A transformer-a BIGGEST ONE!” Well...there ya go.
---JAXON---
Oh, Jaxon. My little Tasmanian devil. When we first brought
the twins home, I was very pleasantly surprised. He was very careful around
them. He didn’t have as much interest in them as Aiden, but still watched out
for them and helped out when I asked. He always reminded me when we’d leave the
house “Momma, get your babies!”. He was still attending daycare, and that place
is amazing. His behavior had improved so much, days spent with him we actually
enjoyable. I know that sounds horrible but while I was pregnant, Jaxon worried
me. He was very, very hard to handle. He was violent, and didn’t listen and
nothing was working. Right before I got admitted to the hospital, we found the
new daycare and it had been absolutely wonderful. Because of the situation with
the twins, and then my surgery shortly thereafter, Aiden and Jaxon could keep
going to daycare with state assistance, and it continued that way until the end
of July. There was a mix up with health and human services and until they
corrected their error, both the older boys had to stay at home. At first, it
was fine. But then I started to notice regression with Jaxon in his potty
training. He was doing really well while in daycare-Potty trained through the
day, and needing a pull up at night. But
after staying home for a week (even with me doing frequent “potty breaks”), he
was still wetting his pants during the day and soaking through his pull up at
night. His behavior also took a turn for the worst. It was not as bad as it
used to be, his violent tendencies were still almost zero, but he started to blatantly
act out and not listen. The absolute worst thing that came about, however, was
the whining. This kid whined constantly. All day long. About EVERYTHING. It was
driving me crazy. I know it was because he was bored. I couldn’t provide him
the kind of physical activity he was getting at daycare. We have a park nearby,
and we used it. We have a pool- and we used that as well. But, it’s extremely
hard for me to handle all four of the boys by myself-so those activities
usually waited until I had an extra pair of hands to help me out. Fortunately,
the daycare situation got worked out and I do have a plan for when the state
assistance ends. So, he’s currently going during the week and his behavior
seems to be getting back on track again. Apart from behavior issues, he is
incredibly intelligent. All of his teachers have pulled me aside to tell me how
well he’s doing. He knows a lot of letters and words, and can count pretty
high. He also can build crazy intricate things with blocks, Legos, and he even
made a huge pyramid with Dixie cups. It’s so funny to see a little boy with so
much energy sit down and concentrate so hard on building. He is still an energetic,
adventurous little boy. He’s silly, loves to laugh, and loves to explore. As of right now, he is still partially potty
trained- mostly using the potty during the day and a pull up at night. Some
accidents if I don’t remind him to go.
He loves his new yellow chair, his blankie and stuffed puppy named Bo,
and like I said, he loves to build. His
favorite songs are “Wheels on the bus”, “Twinkle Twinkle”, “Jesus Loves Me”, “Helter
Skelter”, “Let It Go”, and “Atlas”. His
favorite color is Green. His favorite foods are apples, strawberries,
sandwiches, watermelon, cheese, and cheeseburgers. Jaxon wants “dogs” for his
birthday. He’s obsessed with dogs, lately.
---GAVIN---
Gavin is my only blue eyed baby! He’s such a sweetie, and
for the most part very easy going. When he wants something, though, he is much
more vocal than Christian. He is pretty big, at almost 18 pounds (from his birth
weight of 4lbs 15oz!), and long too! His favorite person in the world is his
Daddy. He just lights up when he sees Phillip. Gavin is a better sleeper than
Christian, usually falling asleep around 9 or 10pm and not waking up until 5 or
6 am. For the longest time, we had the twins on the same feeding schedule but
as they’ve gotten a little older, we decided to let sleep during the night as
much as they wanted, rather than wake one if the other wakes. Mommy has been
terrible about putting both of these babies in the crib. Gavin prefers to be
upright and on his side when he sleeps. So when I do out him in the crib, I
prop him on his side the tiniest bit. That’s controversial, I know. But I
assure you, he is safe. The biggest problem with the crib is that he tends to
wiggle down and gets his legs stuck in the bars-causing him to cry and Mommy to
have a heart attack. Now that he can move around and turn his head much better,
I purchased a crib bumper. Hopefully that helps with that issue. On his tummy,
Gavin is lifting his head almost completely and looking around. If I brace my
hands against his feet, he pushes off of them in an attempt to wiggle. He is
close to an army-style crawl, I think. He has rolled from back to tummy a few
times. He is quicker to laugh than Christian, and thinks it’s HILARIOUS when
Daddy claps at him. He is taking 6-7 ounces around every 4 hours during the
day, and has just started rice cereal and bananas, which he loves! Also, though some won’t believe me, he has
said his first word! He says “Hey” when I ask him too. I have witnesses!! I call Gavin “Big Boy” “Sweet Thing” and “Baby
Boo” and “Pudge”
---CHRISTIAN---
Christian is my only brown eyed baby!! I never thought I’d
be so excited for a child to have my eyes. But, he certainly is. In fact, out
of all my kids, Christian looks the most like me as a baby. Dark hair, dark
eyes, and a more olive complexion than his brothers. I joke around and tell
people that Christian is my grumpy guy. He does tend to look very serious or
worried a lot of the time. However, when this baby smiles, his WHOLE face
changes. He has the sweetest smile. He is more needy than his brother, and
though is not as loud as Gavin, he is quicker to cry or fuss. He is almost 16 pounds (birth weight 4lbs 9oz)
and only a tiny bit shorter than Gavin, though he looks and feels much smaller.
He falls asleep around the same time as
Gavin, and would much rather sleep in his swing than just about anywhere else.
He wakes up, on average, around twice a night, usually once around 2am, and
then again at 6/7. He has less of an issue with wiggling around in his crib,
but wakes up much more frequently if he’s flat on his back. On his tummy, Christian
lifts his head only for a few seconds at a time. He is much more comfortable in
a sitting position, than in a crawling position. HE HATES TUMMY TIME. Though
Christian smiles more readily, his laughs are few and far between. But, man,
are they adorable. He, too, is taking
around 6-7 ounces at a time every 3-4 hours. He was less enthusiastic about the
rice cereal and bananas but seemed to enjoy them, once he actually managed to
swallow some. J I
call Christian “Bubba” “Boo Boo” “Sweet Thing” and “Leetle Peanut”.
Well! There’s all there is to know about the four Byrd
Brothers! I hope you all are doing well and stay tuned, as I will be updating soon
about my continued journey in finding God (here’s a hint, an otherworldly message
from both Aiden and Jaxon- and my first time drawn to worship at the altar.),
my decision to get fit (day 3, hoping to hit 2 miles walked tonight.), and my battle with depression, self-worth,
and confidence.
Have a wonderful day.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
My journey with God.
My goodness, it's been a long time since I've written. To give myself a little credit though...I've been parenting four (COUNT EM, FOUR!) children. I will do another entry with updates on all the boys.
This entry, however, will be about an experience I had in church.
I'll say up front, I was born with a Jewish mother, and a Catholic father. I embraced both sides, but never really in a religious sense. On my mother's side, we celebrated Jewish holidays- mostly getting together on Passover, Hanukah, and Rosh Hashanah. On these days, all I really remember were the meals (with the exception of Hanukah...I remember lighting the candles with my mom. I also remember going to a celebration in Mission Viejo, where they sang songs and passed out dreidels and latkes) and the family. We never saw my dad's family much, as we lived in California and most of them lived in Nebraska. But, we celebrated Easter and Christmas- however the emphasis on these holidays were much more geared towards family, rather than faith. You know...chocolate bunnies and presents from Santa. And, I was okay with that! I never felt like I was missing out, I never really gave thought to a higher power. My parents taught me good morals and values. I was accepting of all people and strove to be the best person I could, simply because it was the RIGHT thing to do. I never saw religion as a bad thing, or a good thing. It just existed and I wasn't a part of it.
I attended church with friends several times. I remember having fun in several different churches, but I never really understood what they were talking about. I mostly saw it as a get together with friends, with breaks in between to watch VeggieTales. (I watch them with my kids, now)
However, in 2 different churches, with two different friends, I had some bad experiences as well. I never told my friends, I never told my family- it just happened and I buried it inside. In one event, I was pulled aside by a pastor and asked my background. When I told him how I was raised, he took me by the hand, led me to a small room with a desk and a chair, put a Bible in my hands and told me to read "From here, to here". Now, I was always an avid reader. But this Bible had words I had never even seen and it made absolutely no sense to me. He left me in that room for what seemed like hours (I'm sure it was only minutes) and when he came back he said "Do you understand what you read?" And I said yes, even though I did not. He then said "The only way to get in to heaven after you die is to turn away from the life you've been living and surrender to God." I vaguely remember nodding, and being somewhat depressed the rest of the night. I was around 7-8 years old.
In a different church, with a different friend, I had what I think was a youth pastor ask me what I believed in. When I couldn't answer, he asked me to leave because "The message would be lost on me." He sent some teenager to watch me while I played on the swings and waited for my friend to get out of youth group.
After these events, I had zero desire to attend church. I went a few times again, mostly to spend time with my friends, but I was wary of all the older people. I didn't want them asking questions. As I grew older, my view on the church and God became negative. I didn't believe in God, per say. In my heart, I always believed in a higher power. And I never believed that when you die, your body simply stays in the ground. I had seen things, felt things, that told me otherwise. I refused to believe that your soul, the essence of YOU, dies with your body. But I could not say with absolute certainty what happens. I would not say that I believed in God.
As a teen, at the peak of all of my depression and angst (an issue for another entry, perhaps.), I was very much into music and...other things...that told tales of death and evil and drugs and sex...and I loved it. Let me explain. The anger that I heard in my favorite bands' voices, the lust, and the STRENGTH- made ME feel empowered. What I wore began to change, how I spoke, the activities that I did...everything changed as my view on life changed. In my late teens, early twenties, I was more concerned with having fun in my own ways to even think about God. I labeled myself as "Agnostic" and didn't get much deeper in explanation.
When I began to talk about marriage, my one stipulation was to have a nondenominational service. I wanted the union to be based on LOVE, not religion. When I did get married, it was in a court house. Not my first choice, but it served for the time being. And then I began having kids. I was so lost as a human being after Aiden, and while pregnant with Jaxon. In the middle of a very trying time in my life, my husband and I started going to a counselor, who also went to a church that he highly recommended. Having really no where else to turn, I agreed to go. When I entered the church, I was extremely uncomfortable. I put up a wall and I felt like everyone knew what I was. These people were my enemies. They didn't want me there. It was a halfhearted attempt, in my part.
After going a couple times, I began to become a little more comfortable, but I could never go on my own. I never prayed. I never read the Bible. I just....went. After I had Jaxon, the turmoil in my life came to a head. With everything going on, I stopped going to church. And I put it out of my mind, until about 6 months ago.
We decided as a family to give church another shot. I was pregnant with the twins and the older boys had been asking about God, after attending a Catholic daycare. The church we had attended in the past, New Life Assembly, had fantastic opportunities for kids, so we started going again. Shortly after attending a few times, I had the twins. In the hospital, one of the pastors came to visit me. In every other situation, his visit would have made me uncomfortable. But, I was alone when he came, and he brought with him a sense of comfort. I enjoyed talking to him. He prayed for me and the twins while he was there, and instead of feeling awkward, I felt grateful.
We started attending every Sunday, and had the twins introduced to the church once they were out of the hospital. I started to notice that not only was my opinion on the people going to church changing, I started to look forward to going. I still didn't pray. But, I had read some of the Bible and I enjoyed learning about it. I really liked listening to the church's new(ish) pastor, Pastor Jeff Baker. He was younger than most of the pastors I had seen and I felt like I could relate more to him. Some people started to recognize us at the church and always greeted us. Our names were now showing up under the regular attending name tag board. I was asked to help in the nursery, and enjoyed that. I volunteered to do it again. I felt GOOD after church. Happy.
Two weeks ago, something happened that I have never experienced in my life. We attended like normal. We sat through Pastor Jeff's sermon (a message about Praise and Prayer) and stayed for some of the worship songs afterward, as was normal. However, during the first song, I started to feel really strange. I started to get kind of lightheaded (which I attributed to not eating breakfast yet) but then I started to get chills. I've had chills before, obviously, but nothing like this. It was like jolts of electricity running down my arms and into my finger tips. Goosebumps hit my skin like crazy and my heart was racing. All of the sudden, I wanted to cry. Like...bawl. For no reason. And this wasn't even the weirdest part. I kept glancing at a man across the sanctuary. I did not know who he was. My eyes were just drawn to him, continuously. He was crying and had his arms lifted up while praising God. I had an overwhelming urge to hug him, as strange as that sounds. I literally wanted to leap over the pew and run to him. He started to move, and I saw him walk towards the exit. In my head I heard a loud voice say "NO." and I was adamant that this man must stay in the sanctuary. I continued to watch him as he turned away from the exit, and took the stage. This man, whom I previously did not recognize...was Pastor Jeff. I have no explanation as to why, in that moment, I did not recognize a man that I seen dozens of times before. I have no explanation why I wanted to wrap my arms around someone I believed to be a stranger. And I have no explanation why, when he took the stage it was like a veil had been lifted and I saw him clearly. He took the stage once more to pray, and I felt everything inside me liquefy and go heavy. Every part of my flesh of my front seemed pulled forward, until I was closing my eyes and praying with him. And I was praying HARD. Something I've never ever done before. When I left the sanctuary, my eyes were huge and my whole body was shaking. My arms, my legs...everything. My husband was asking me what was wrong, and I told him that I was fine...nothing was wrong...but that something had happened. I did not want to tell him right away though because it felt so....personal. It felt so intimate and strong that I wanted to keep it with ME. Eventually, though, I did tell him. And I've told a lot of my friends. And now, I'm sharing my story with you.
That was two Sundays ago. Last Sunday, I went to church wondering if that would happen again. It did not. I felt a slight tingle during the worship songs, but nothing close to what I felt before. I had a very strong desire to speak with Pastor Jeff about what I experienced, and last Thursday afternoon, that is exactly what I did. It was a good talk. I told him this whole story and listened to what he had to say. He recommended some groups for me when I expressed interest in learning more and growing in my faith. I also brought up an idea that I had about photography in the church, and he said he would point me in the right direction. As I left the meeting, right as I was about to walk outside, I passed a room where someone was practicing on the guitar. It sounded like one of the worship songs that I had had an experience during. And I felt peaceful.
(Quick sidenote- I am writing this entry as my boys are running around playing. My three year old- who, as far as I know, cannot read yet, was cuddling up to my right side and watching me type. He was muttering something incoherent, as he often does. But then he looked up at me and said "Momma, Jesus, God, Elijah." I looked down at him and said "What?? What about Jesus, God and Elijah??" And he pointed at my screen and said "God." I said "Where do you see God, baby?" He pointed at the screen again and said "All over it." So....take that how you will.)
I'll leave you with some final thoughts. I'm still very much at a crossroads with my faith. I no longer thing of things like this as coincidence. The sermons, how they line up with and have something to do with my life every single time. The strange happenings, how things get bad but somehow they always work out....how my three year old son knew I was writing about God when I never told him...they cannot all be coincidental. I look forward to becoming more active in our church. I look forward to learning, and growing more. The most important thing about all of this is that above all else, I want to be a better person. A better mother, friend, and daughter, but most of all a better human being. While there are still things I struggle with- like things I support that may be frowned upon, things I say, music I listen to (Where does all of this fit in on my journey??), I look forward to being someone my family, friends, and my church can be proud of.
Thanks for reading...I know I will be keeping you updated through this.
Always,
Jessica
This entry, however, will be about an experience I had in church.
I'll say up front, I was born with a Jewish mother, and a Catholic father. I embraced both sides, but never really in a religious sense. On my mother's side, we celebrated Jewish holidays- mostly getting together on Passover, Hanukah, and Rosh Hashanah. On these days, all I really remember were the meals (with the exception of Hanukah...I remember lighting the candles with my mom. I also remember going to a celebration in Mission Viejo, where they sang songs and passed out dreidels and latkes) and the family. We never saw my dad's family much, as we lived in California and most of them lived in Nebraska. But, we celebrated Easter and Christmas- however the emphasis on these holidays were much more geared towards family, rather than faith. You know...chocolate bunnies and presents from Santa. And, I was okay with that! I never felt like I was missing out, I never really gave thought to a higher power. My parents taught me good morals and values. I was accepting of all people and strove to be the best person I could, simply because it was the RIGHT thing to do. I never saw religion as a bad thing, or a good thing. It just existed and I wasn't a part of it.
I attended church with friends several times. I remember having fun in several different churches, but I never really understood what they were talking about. I mostly saw it as a get together with friends, with breaks in between to watch VeggieTales. (I watch them with my kids, now)
However, in 2 different churches, with two different friends, I had some bad experiences as well. I never told my friends, I never told my family- it just happened and I buried it inside. In one event, I was pulled aside by a pastor and asked my background. When I told him how I was raised, he took me by the hand, led me to a small room with a desk and a chair, put a Bible in my hands and told me to read "From here, to here". Now, I was always an avid reader. But this Bible had words I had never even seen and it made absolutely no sense to me. He left me in that room for what seemed like hours (I'm sure it was only minutes) and when he came back he said "Do you understand what you read?" And I said yes, even though I did not. He then said "The only way to get in to heaven after you die is to turn away from the life you've been living and surrender to God." I vaguely remember nodding, and being somewhat depressed the rest of the night. I was around 7-8 years old.
In a different church, with a different friend, I had what I think was a youth pastor ask me what I believed in. When I couldn't answer, he asked me to leave because "The message would be lost on me." He sent some teenager to watch me while I played on the swings and waited for my friend to get out of youth group.
After these events, I had zero desire to attend church. I went a few times again, mostly to spend time with my friends, but I was wary of all the older people. I didn't want them asking questions. As I grew older, my view on the church and God became negative. I didn't believe in God, per say. In my heart, I always believed in a higher power. And I never believed that when you die, your body simply stays in the ground. I had seen things, felt things, that told me otherwise. I refused to believe that your soul, the essence of YOU, dies with your body. But I could not say with absolute certainty what happens. I would not say that I believed in God.
As a teen, at the peak of all of my depression and angst (an issue for another entry, perhaps.), I was very much into music and...other things...that told tales of death and evil and drugs and sex...and I loved it. Let me explain. The anger that I heard in my favorite bands' voices, the lust, and the STRENGTH- made ME feel empowered. What I wore began to change, how I spoke, the activities that I did...everything changed as my view on life changed. In my late teens, early twenties, I was more concerned with having fun in my own ways to even think about God. I labeled myself as "Agnostic" and didn't get much deeper in explanation.
When I began to talk about marriage, my one stipulation was to have a nondenominational service. I wanted the union to be based on LOVE, not religion. When I did get married, it was in a court house. Not my first choice, but it served for the time being. And then I began having kids. I was so lost as a human being after Aiden, and while pregnant with Jaxon. In the middle of a very trying time in my life, my husband and I started going to a counselor, who also went to a church that he highly recommended. Having really no where else to turn, I agreed to go. When I entered the church, I was extremely uncomfortable. I put up a wall and I felt like everyone knew what I was. These people were my enemies. They didn't want me there. It was a halfhearted attempt, in my part.
After going a couple times, I began to become a little more comfortable, but I could never go on my own. I never prayed. I never read the Bible. I just....went. After I had Jaxon, the turmoil in my life came to a head. With everything going on, I stopped going to church. And I put it out of my mind, until about 6 months ago.
We decided as a family to give church another shot. I was pregnant with the twins and the older boys had been asking about God, after attending a Catholic daycare. The church we had attended in the past, New Life Assembly, had fantastic opportunities for kids, so we started going again. Shortly after attending a few times, I had the twins. In the hospital, one of the pastors came to visit me. In every other situation, his visit would have made me uncomfortable. But, I was alone when he came, and he brought with him a sense of comfort. I enjoyed talking to him. He prayed for me and the twins while he was there, and instead of feeling awkward, I felt grateful.
We started attending every Sunday, and had the twins introduced to the church once they were out of the hospital. I started to notice that not only was my opinion on the people going to church changing, I started to look forward to going. I still didn't pray. But, I had read some of the Bible and I enjoyed learning about it. I really liked listening to the church's new(ish) pastor, Pastor Jeff Baker. He was younger than most of the pastors I had seen and I felt like I could relate more to him. Some people started to recognize us at the church and always greeted us. Our names were now showing up under the regular attending name tag board. I was asked to help in the nursery, and enjoyed that. I volunteered to do it again. I felt GOOD after church. Happy.
Two weeks ago, something happened that I have never experienced in my life. We attended like normal. We sat through Pastor Jeff's sermon (a message about Praise and Prayer) and stayed for some of the worship songs afterward, as was normal. However, during the first song, I started to feel really strange. I started to get kind of lightheaded (which I attributed to not eating breakfast yet) but then I started to get chills. I've had chills before, obviously, but nothing like this. It was like jolts of electricity running down my arms and into my finger tips. Goosebumps hit my skin like crazy and my heart was racing. All of the sudden, I wanted to cry. Like...bawl. For no reason. And this wasn't even the weirdest part. I kept glancing at a man across the sanctuary. I did not know who he was. My eyes were just drawn to him, continuously. He was crying and had his arms lifted up while praising God. I had an overwhelming urge to hug him, as strange as that sounds. I literally wanted to leap over the pew and run to him. He started to move, and I saw him walk towards the exit. In my head I heard a loud voice say "NO." and I was adamant that this man must stay in the sanctuary. I continued to watch him as he turned away from the exit, and took the stage. This man, whom I previously did not recognize...was Pastor Jeff. I have no explanation as to why, in that moment, I did not recognize a man that I seen dozens of times before. I have no explanation why I wanted to wrap my arms around someone I believed to be a stranger. And I have no explanation why, when he took the stage it was like a veil had been lifted and I saw him clearly. He took the stage once more to pray, and I felt everything inside me liquefy and go heavy. Every part of my flesh of my front seemed pulled forward, until I was closing my eyes and praying with him. And I was praying HARD. Something I've never ever done before. When I left the sanctuary, my eyes were huge and my whole body was shaking. My arms, my legs...everything. My husband was asking me what was wrong, and I told him that I was fine...nothing was wrong...but that something had happened. I did not want to tell him right away though because it felt so....personal. It felt so intimate and strong that I wanted to keep it with ME. Eventually, though, I did tell him. And I've told a lot of my friends. And now, I'm sharing my story with you.
That was two Sundays ago. Last Sunday, I went to church wondering if that would happen again. It did not. I felt a slight tingle during the worship songs, but nothing close to what I felt before. I had a very strong desire to speak with Pastor Jeff about what I experienced, and last Thursday afternoon, that is exactly what I did. It was a good talk. I told him this whole story and listened to what he had to say. He recommended some groups for me when I expressed interest in learning more and growing in my faith. I also brought up an idea that I had about photography in the church, and he said he would point me in the right direction. As I left the meeting, right as I was about to walk outside, I passed a room where someone was practicing on the guitar. It sounded like one of the worship songs that I had had an experience during. And I felt peaceful.
(Quick sidenote- I am writing this entry as my boys are running around playing. My three year old- who, as far as I know, cannot read yet, was cuddling up to my right side and watching me type. He was muttering something incoherent, as he often does. But then he looked up at me and said "Momma, Jesus, God, Elijah." I looked down at him and said "What?? What about Jesus, God and Elijah??" And he pointed at my screen and said "God." I said "Where do you see God, baby?" He pointed at the screen again and said "All over it." So....take that how you will.)
I'll leave you with some final thoughts. I'm still very much at a crossroads with my faith. I no longer thing of things like this as coincidence. The sermons, how they line up with and have something to do with my life every single time. The strange happenings, how things get bad but somehow they always work out....how my three year old son knew I was writing about God when I never told him...they cannot all be coincidental. I look forward to becoming more active in our church. I look forward to learning, and growing more. The most important thing about all of this is that above all else, I want to be a better person. A better mother, friend, and daughter, but most of all a better human being. While there are still things I struggle with- like things I support that may be frowned upon, things I say, music I listen to (Where does all of this fit in on my journey??), I look forward to being someone my family, friends, and my church can be proud of.
Thanks for reading...I know I will be keeping you updated through this.
Always,
Jessica
Friday, May 9, 2014
Twinning.
I suppose while I have some time I should blog a bit. I don't mean to neglect my blog, in fact there are plenty of times throughout my days where I think to myself "Oh, I need to write this down. I miss it." But things, as you can probably imagine, are busy and new and when I do have down time, it is so much more appealing to introduce my head to a pillow. Pillow, meet head. Head, pillow. This is going to be a very comfortable relationship, I can tell.
For now, though, I've got a very content baby in our Cradle n' Swing, that we bought second hand from a friend (Thank you again, Eva!!) and another baby right next to me telling me about his dreams. Or he could be telling me off for taking a second too long with his binky. I'm sorry, Christian. Your binky fell on the floor and Momma needed to wipe it off. I do this for you, dear son.
Anyway. Life has settled into a routine, for the most part. Aiden and Jaxon go to daycare during the day, and I'm home learning new things about the twins and trying to keep up. They really are doing so well, I'm so happy to see the progress that they've made. I can't wait to post the plethora of pictures I just sent from my phone. You all are in for some serious twin spamming.
I figured I'd describe the twins one by one, as I'm really getting to know their individual personalities.
Gavin, was born first at 4 pounds, 15 ounces-making him Twin A, or Pudge, as I call him. Well, we went in on Monday for our first well baby check and shots. Wanna know why I call this baby Pudge?? He weighed in at 9 pounds, 3 ounces and 21 inches long. Holy cow! This could have something to do with the fact that Mister Man wants 5 ounces at one time when he eats. Pudgy boy. I love it. Anyway, Gavin and I got a routine down while Christian was still in the NICU, but I think we were both so happy to be home from the hospital that a lot of our time was spent cuddling and napping. Recently, though he has started to show a little more personality. He is a very mellow baby! He LOVES our swing, and being rocked back and forth. He is so strong, he can already lift his head up and look around. Tummy time is not something he hardcore objects to, in fact on more than one occasion he has fallen asleep during it. I usually have to wake him up in the night to feed him, as I'm trying to keep the boys on the same schedule. His hair is a light brown and he has bright blue eyes, for now. I'm thinking they will stay blue, because they are much bluer than either Aiden or Jaxon's eyes were when they were born. Personally, I think that Gavin looks more like Phillip than any of our boys have. Although there are times when I look at him and he looks identical to Jaxon as a baby. He does not smile often, and never when he is awake. I'm sure than has to do with the prematurity, but I'm waiting on pins and needles to see this little guy look at me and smile. He loves to give kisses and will open his mouth for them. Daddy swears he loves techno music, but since Mommy HATES techno, I've not tried that out for myself. However, I do know that he enjoys mellow music when he's in my company- and has fallen asleep on me when I sing Jack Johnson to him. He likes to stretch wide out when he sleeps, with both hands up by his head. I also just discovered that he is ticklish on his sides- he doesn't laugh yet but he squirms and opens his mouth. It's adorable. When he's awake, he loves to lock eyes with me and follows me around wherever I go. He knows my voice and responds to it. When he lays with Christian, he has to be the one touching him, he reaches for his hands and likes to smoosh faces with him.
Christian, born second at 4 pounds, 9 ounces, is Twin B, and I call him Peanut. He is my little Peanut baby, mostly because he is lighter than his brother, but also because he has a big head and a littler body and just likes to be held snugly. On Monday he weighed 8 pounds, 6 ounces and 20 1/4 inches long. He eats anywhere between 3 and 4 ounces, and he is much more adamant about when he wants his bottle, which has remained consistent at about every 3 hours, around the clock. Christian is a snuggler and loves the vibrating bouncer seat. At first, he did not like the swing, but has grown to like it a little more now. I found that he enjoys subtle movements, as opposed to all out rocking like his brother. His neck muscles are not quite as strong, but his legs are stronger than Gavin's. He is definitely not a fan of tummy time. He also is more vocal than his brother, and is the one I can depend on waking me up like clockwork. Recently, around 10/11 pm, he has been in the habit of being wide awake and wanting to fuss, even after his bottle. However, what he usually wants is to be snuggled tight and a binky in his mouth. Speaking of, he is much more fond of his binky than his brother. Christian's hair is dark brow, almost black. And he has very dark eyes, turning more brown every day. I see my eyes when I look into his. In fact, I see a LOT of myself when I look at him. He favors Aiden, when was a baby. Even though Christian is a more serious (and a little cranky) baby, he also smiles much more in his sleep than Gavin. I was literally just talking to him while he was falling asleep and he treated me to a HUGE grin. It changes his whole face. It makes me cry. He prefers to bunch up his legs when he sleeps and also, like his brother, keeps his hands by his face. There's something about Christian, when he looks at you. It's like he's an old soul, much older in spirit than he should be. I feel like he is just on the verge of saying something when he stares into my eyes.
Whenever I go places with the two of them, I am stopped constantly. I admit I was not prepared for the reaction of people around twins. I've had people yell at me from across parking lots "ARE THOSE TWINS?!" People love to tell me stories about twins in their family, or about their kids that are also twins. It's like having twins automatically enters you in this elite club, and you feel connected to the people that have twins as well. People who DO have twins are drawn to you because they understand, people who don't have twins are drawn to you because it's something that is different and special. The attention kind of blindsided me. But, I don't mind it either. I love showing them to people, and talking about them. I like being stopped in the grocery store so an older lady can take a peak, and hearing a young girl say "Look, Mommy! There are two of them!"
Nothing could have prepared me for this life. It's harder than I ever could have imagined, being a 25 year old with 4 children. But, the addition of the twins has sharpened my mommy game, and put a new spark inside of me. Yes, I can do this. I may not be supermommy...but I love my children bigger than I can say. I feel more in control and more determined to be the best possible mother I can be. I want to give my children everything. Every opportunity, every kiss, every hug, every smile, every piggyback ride, every game of hide and seek...Yes. I can do this. Of course I can. This is what I was meant for. My feeling of emptiness and longing as a child and teenager were simply holes in my heart meant to be filled with this love. This incredible, all encompassing, deep love for my kids, that only grows and grows with them. When I look at my babies- Aiden, Jaxon, Gavin and Christian- I see parts of me, parts of my heart outside of my body, and it gives me hope. I am so lucky. I am so very blessed.
.jpg)
.jpg)
Christian & Gavin
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
For now, though, I've got a very content baby in our Cradle n' Swing, that we bought second hand from a friend (Thank you again, Eva!!) and another baby right next to me telling me about his dreams. Or he could be telling me off for taking a second too long with his binky. I'm sorry, Christian. Your binky fell on the floor and Momma needed to wipe it off. I do this for you, dear son.
Anyway. Life has settled into a routine, for the most part. Aiden and Jaxon go to daycare during the day, and I'm home learning new things about the twins and trying to keep up. They really are doing so well, I'm so happy to see the progress that they've made. I can't wait to post the plethora of pictures I just sent from my phone. You all are in for some serious twin spamming.
I figured I'd describe the twins one by one, as I'm really getting to know their individual personalities.
Gavin, was born first at 4 pounds, 15 ounces-making him Twin A, or Pudge, as I call him. Well, we went in on Monday for our first well baby check and shots. Wanna know why I call this baby Pudge?? He weighed in at 9 pounds, 3 ounces and 21 inches long. Holy cow! This could have something to do with the fact that Mister Man wants 5 ounces at one time when he eats. Pudgy boy. I love it. Anyway, Gavin and I got a routine down while Christian was still in the NICU, but I think we were both so happy to be home from the hospital that a lot of our time was spent cuddling and napping. Recently, though he has started to show a little more personality. He is a very mellow baby! He LOVES our swing, and being rocked back and forth. He is so strong, he can already lift his head up and look around. Tummy time is not something he hardcore objects to, in fact on more than one occasion he has fallen asleep during it. I usually have to wake him up in the night to feed him, as I'm trying to keep the boys on the same schedule. His hair is a light brown and he has bright blue eyes, for now. I'm thinking they will stay blue, because they are much bluer than either Aiden or Jaxon's eyes were when they were born. Personally, I think that Gavin looks more like Phillip than any of our boys have. Although there are times when I look at him and he looks identical to Jaxon as a baby. He does not smile often, and never when he is awake. I'm sure than has to do with the prematurity, but I'm waiting on pins and needles to see this little guy look at me and smile. He loves to give kisses and will open his mouth for them. Daddy swears he loves techno music, but since Mommy HATES techno, I've not tried that out for myself. However, I do know that he enjoys mellow music when he's in my company- and has fallen asleep on me when I sing Jack Johnson to him. He likes to stretch wide out when he sleeps, with both hands up by his head. I also just discovered that he is ticklish on his sides- he doesn't laugh yet but he squirms and opens his mouth. It's adorable. When he's awake, he loves to lock eyes with me and follows me around wherever I go. He knows my voice and responds to it. When he lays with Christian, he has to be the one touching him, he reaches for his hands and likes to smoosh faces with him.
Christian, born second at 4 pounds, 9 ounces, is Twin B, and I call him Peanut. He is my little Peanut baby, mostly because he is lighter than his brother, but also because he has a big head and a littler body and just likes to be held snugly. On Monday he weighed 8 pounds, 6 ounces and 20 1/4 inches long. He eats anywhere between 3 and 4 ounces, and he is much more adamant about when he wants his bottle, which has remained consistent at about every 3 hours, around the clock. Christian is a snuggler and loves the vibrating bouncer seat. At first, he did not like the swing, but has grown to like it a little more now. I found that he enjoys subtle movements, as opposed to all out rocking like his brother. His neck muscles are not quite as strong, but his legs are stronger than Gavin's. He is definitely not a fan of tummy time. He also is more vocal than his brother, and is the one I can depend on waking me up like clockwork. Recently, around 10/11 pm, he has been in the habit of being wide awake and wanting to fuss, even after his bottle. However, what he usually wants is to be snuggled tight and a binky in his mouth. Speaking of, he is much more fond of his binky than his brother. Christian's hair is dark brow, almost black. And he has very dark eyes, turning more brown every day. I see my eyes when I look into his. In fact, I see a LOT of myself when I look at him. He favors Aiden, when was a baby. Even though Christian is a more serious (and a little cranky) baby, he also smiles much more in his sleep than Gavin. I was literally just talking to him while he was falling asleep and he treated me to a HUGE grin. It changes his whole face. It makes me cry. He prefers to bunch up his legs when he sleeps and also, like his brother, keeps his hands by his face. There's something about Christian, when he looks at you. It's like he's an old soul, much older in spirit than he should be. I feel like he is just on the verge of saying something when he stares into my eyes.
Whenever I go places with the two of them, I am stopped constantly. I admit I was not prepared for the reaction of people around twins. I've had people yell at me from across parking lots "ARE THOSE TWINS?!" People love to tell me stories about twins in their family, or about their kids that are also twins. It's like having twins automatically enters you in this elite club, and you feel connected to the people that have twins as well. People who DO have twins are drawn to you because they understand, people who don't have twins are drawn to you because it's something that is different and special. The attention kind of blindsided me. But, I don't mind it either. I love showing them to people, and talking about them. I like being stopped in the grocery store so an older lady can take a peak, and hearing a young girl say "Look, Mommy! There are two of them!"
Nothing could have prepared me for this life. It's harder than I ever could have imagined, being a 25 year old with 4 children. But, the addition of the twins has sharpened my mommy game, and put a new spark inside of me. Yes, I can do this. I may not be supermommy...but I love my children bigger than I can say. I feel more in control and more determined to be the best possible mother I can be. I want to give my children everything. Every opportunity, every kiss, every hug, every smile, every piggyback ride, every game of hide and seek...Yes. I can do this. Of course I can. This is what I was meant for. My feeling of emptiness and longing as a child and teenager were simply holes in my heart meant to be filled with this love. This incredible, all encompassing, deep love for my kids, that only grows and grows with them. When I look at my babies- Aiden, Jaxon, Gavin and Christian- I see parts of me, parts of my heart outside of my body, and it gives me hope. I am so lucky. I am so very blessed.
Gavin in the NICU.
Christian 4 hours old.
Christian & Gavin
All ready for their doctor appointment.
Mommy and Gavin
Snuggles.
Twinning.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Well, this is going to be a doozy!
Well well well....it's been a while. To be fair, there's been just a FEW life changes lately!
Let's start back at where my last entry left off:
Phillip was in Mississippi, saying his final goodbyes to his dad. He left on February 19th. During his stay, I started to feel very strange. One day I woke up and knew something wasn't right. I took my blood pressure and found it to be extremely high. So, I went to the doctor to check on the twins, and they increased my blood pressure medicine by quite a bit. A few days later, after getting used to the dose of medicine, I felt a little bit better. In Mississippi, Phillip's dad health was declining steadily, to the point where we knew, unfortunately, that it was just a matter of time. We had made the decision that he should stay there until his dad passed, so he could be there for the funeral and be a pallbearer. With a bunch of help from my mom, I was able to manage things with the kids. We were searching for a new daycare for Jaxon, while trying to keep things as calm as possible for me, especially with my blood pressure issue. On the morning of March 5th, I woke up vomiting. I chalked it up to "morning sickness", I had never really gotten completely over it and sometimes I would still be sick if I had too much acid in my stomach. We had an appointment that morning at a new daycare to see how Jaxon might like it. I felt very strange, my whole body hurt and I was just exhausted. We went to the new daycare and really liked it, thank goodness. Jaxon stayed there that day, and I decided to go home and lay down-thinking I had a tummy bug because I couldn't keep anything down. I quickly fell asleep, until a phone call from Phillip woke me up. His father passed away. After talking for a bit, we got off the phone, and I fell asleep yet again. My mom ended up picking me up and taking me to the doctor- where they found out my blood pressure was still high and I was extremely dehydrated. The decided to admit me to the hospital to check on babies and get some fluids in me...which turned into the discovery of protein in my urine, and my diagnosed preeclampsia. I was told a couple days later that I would be staying in the hospital until I delivered my twins, and they were considering taking them right when I hit 32 weeks. I received steroid shots in my legs to help mature the twins' lungs and brain. Because of the change of plans, we decided to go ahead and have the baby shower that we had planned for at the hospital, on March 9th. This was also the day of Phillip's dad's funeral. Since I was on bed rest and my blood pressure climbed with even the slightest bit of activity, my shower was very short, but very sweet! Some lovely ladies (and one gentleman!) attended and made me feel very special! I had to remain laying down through the whole hour, but it even though I grumbled about it, I knew it was for the safety of the babies. After the shower, my doctor came in and said that she wanted to go ahead with the C-section as soon as possible. I was terrified that she would want to do it before Phillip returned, as he was still in Mississippi and it is about a 24 hour drive straight through. She told me she would wait as long as she could, but it would be before the end of the upcoming week. So, I called Phillip and told him the plan, and he and his sister decided to leave Mississippi directly after the funeral. On the morning of the 10th, my doctor made another visit. She had thought about it over night, and wanted to get the babies out the following day. By this time, I was relatively calm. I knew it was happening, regardless of anything else, and I had come to terms with it. I figured that Phillip would get in later that evening, we'd get some sleep, and then wake up and have our babies. About an hour later, the doctor came back in again, after hearing that Phillip was on his way. She decided she wanted to have the C-section THAT EVENING. Yikes. All day I was on edge, stressing over whether they would make it back in time. My doctor assured me that she would wait for him to get there, but I wasn't very trusting, since plans had changed so much so quickly. Finally, at around 3 pm, Phillip arrived at the hospital! I was so overwhelmed and relieved to finally see him, after almost a month of not being able to. They made it just in time, because by 5pm I was heading into the operating room. My C-section was NOT fun. It never really is, but this time was tied for the worst (tied with Aiden's delivery, where I threw up about 10 times, and passed out). Not only did the spinal hurt, it took multiple pokes. After they settled me into position, I had a monstrous panic attack. I mean...a WHAMMY. I started to pant and gasp for air so the anesthesiologist tried putting an oxygen mask on my face, which only made my anxiety worse because I felt claustrophobic. I am ashamed to admit that I screamed at him to take it off my face, while ripping my head out of his arms. He calmly reminded me that I was hyperventilating and that I needed to calm down. I then got sick, and vomited about 3 times. They had some trouble removing Baby A, but finally managed to get a hold on him. At just before 32 weeks gestation, Gavin Lewis Byrd was born March 10th, 2014 at 6:37pm, 17 and 3/4 inches long and 4 pounds, 15 ounces. Next, at 6:38 pm, Christian Maxwell Byrd was born, weighing in at 4 pounds, 9 ounces and 18 inches long. They showed Gavin to me very briefly, I did not get to see Christian before they took them both back to the NICU.
I was determined, after returning to my room, to see my babies. Of course, directly after surgery they don't let you move around too much. I didn't get to lay eyes on my boys until 1am. They wheeled me down in my bed to see them and I was taken aback at how tiny they were. I couldn't reach them from my bed, but I wanted to touch them so badly. The next morning, I tried walking. It was a slow process, trying to work through the pain. It was a process for the twins, as well. They, of course, had to be on the ventilator right after they were born. But, they are little fighters. After 3 days, they came off the vents. They had to be on some oxygen, but not for very long at all. The majority of their time in the NICU was spent trying to perfect the ever-exhausting "suck, swallow, breathe" routine while eating.
In the midst of everything happening with the twins, we also switched Aiden and Jaxon to a new daycare. Luckily, they have been doing AWESOME there. And I have seen a huge improvement in their behavior at home, especially with Jaxon. It definitely has been a blessing! We needed an awesome place we could depend on because yet another change happened. We moved! Well...we are in the same apartment complex, but in a bigger unit. We LOVE it. I'm so happy with it, I love having enough room for every body. As if that weren't enough change, we bought a minivan! Because...FOUR KIDS!
And the biggest change of all...after six long weeks- Baby Gavin came home yesterday!! I am so so excited to FINALLY have one of my babies home! Christian has a viral infection right now, with a cough and congestion so they want to keep him at the hospital until that is all cleared up. The good news is that today he sounds a million times better! So, hopefully he can come join us soon and our family will finally be complete!
Gavin's first night home went very smoothly! Knock on wood here, but so far he's been a very pleasant and easy baby! He is adjusting so well and I am pleased that I'm able to go right back into taking care of a newborn. I was even able to clean this morning! We'll see how long that lasts once we add one more to the mix! Haha! But I'm feeling fairly confident and I am so enjoying my new babyboos!
More to come when I can, now it's time for Mister Gavin's bath!
Let's start back at where my last entry left off:
Phillip was in Mississippi, saying his final goodbyes to his dad. He left on February 19th. During his stay, I started to feel very strange. One day I woke up and knew something wasn't right. I took my blood pressure and found it to be extremely high. So, I went to the doctor to check on the twins, and they increased my blood pressure medicine by quite a bit. A few days later, after getting used to the dose of medicine, I felt a little bit better. In Mississippi, Phillip's dad health was declining steadily, to the point where we knew, unfortunately, that it was just a matter of time. We had made the decision that he should stay there until his dad passed, so he could be there for the funeral and be a pallbearer. With a bunch of help from my mom, I was able to manage things with the kids. We were searching for a new daycare for Jaxon, while trying to keep things as calm as possible for me, especially with my blood pressure issue. On the morning of March 5th, I woke up vomiting. I chalked it up to "morning sickness", I had never really gotten completely over it and sometimes I would still be sick if I had too much acid in my stomach. We had an appointment that morning at a new daycare to see how Jaxon might like it. I felt very strange, my whole body hurt and I was just exhausted. We went to the new daycare and really liked it, thank goodness. Jaxon stayed there that day, and I decided to go home and lay down-thinking I had a tummy bug because I couldn't keep anything down. I quickly fell asleep, until a phone call from Phillip woke me up. His father passed away. After talking for a bit, we got off the phone, and I fell asleep yet again. My mom ended up picking me up and taking me to the doctor- where they found out my blood pressure was still high and I was extremely dehydrated. The decided to admit me to the hospital to check on babies and get some fluids in me...which turned into the discovery of protein in my urine, and my diagnosed preeclampsia. I was told a couple days later that I would be staying in the hospital until I delivered my twins, and they were considering taking them right when I hit 32 weeks. I received steroid shots in my legs to help mature the twins' lungs and brain. Because of the change of plans, we decided to go ahead and have the baby shower that we had planned for at the hospital, on March 9th. This was also the day of Phillip's dad's funeral. Since I was on bed rest and my blood pressure climbed with even the slightest bit of activity, my shower was very short, but very sweet! Some lovely ladies (and one gentleman!) attended and made me feel very special! I had to remain laying down through the whole hour, but it even though I grumbled about it, I knew it was for the safety of the babies. After the shower, my doctor came in and said that she wanted to go ahead with the C-section as soon as possible. I was terrified that she would want to do it before Phillip returned, as he was still in Mississippi and it is about a 24 hour drive straight through. She told me she would wait as long as she could, but it would be before the end of the upcoming week. So, I called Phillip and told him the plan, and he and his sister decided to leave Mississippi directly after the funeral. On the morning of the 10th, my doctor made another visit. She had thought about it over night, and wanted to get the babies out the following day. By this time, I was relatively calm. I knew it was happening, regardless of anything else, and I had come to terms with it. I figured that Phillip would get in later that evening, we'd get some sleep, and then wake up and have our babies. About an hour later, the doctor came back in again, after hearing that Phillip was on his way. She decided she wanted to have the C-section THAT EVENING. Yikes. All day I was on edge, stressing over whether they would make it back in time. My doctor assured me that she would wait for him to get there, but I wasn't very trusting, since plans had changed so much so quickly. Finally, at around 3 pm, Phillip arrived at the hospital! I was so overwhelmed and relieved to finally see him, after almost a month of not being able to. They made it just in time, because by 5pm I was heading into the operating room. My C-section was NOT fun. It never really is, but this time was tied for the worst (tied with Aiden's delivery, where I threw up about 10 times, and passed out). Not only did the spinal hurt, it took multiple pokes. After they settled me into position, I had a monstrous panic attack. I mean...a WHAMMY. I started to pant and gasp for air so the anesthesiologist tried putting an oxygen mask on my face, which only made my anxiety worse because I felt claustrophobic. I am ashamed to admit that I screamed at him to take it off my face, while ripping my head out of his arms. He calmly reminded me that I was hyperventilating and that I needed to calm down. I then got sick, and vomited about 3 times. They had some trouble removing Baby A, but finally managed to get a hold on him. At just before 32 weeks gestation, Gavin Lewis Byrd was born March 10th, 2014 at 6:37pm, 17 and 3/4 inches long and 4 pounds, 15 ounces. Next, at 6:38 pm, Christian Maxwell Byrd was born, weighing in at 4 pounds, 9 ounces and 18 inches long. They showed Gavin to me very briefly, I did not get to see Christian before they took them both back to the NICU.
I was determined, after returning to my room, to see my babies. Of course, directly after surgery they don't let you move around too much. I didn't get to lay eyes on my boys until 1am. They wheeled me down in my bed to see them and I was taken aback at how tiny they were. I couldn't reach them from my bed, but I wanted to touch them so badly. The next morning, I tried walking. It was a slow process, trying to work through the pain. It was a process for the twins, as well. They, of course, had to be on the ventilator right after they were born. But, they are little fighters. After 3 days, they came off the vents. They had to be on some oxygen, but not for very long at all. The majority of their time in the NICU was spent trying to perfect the ever-exhausting "suck, swallow, breathe" routine while eating.
In the midst of everything happening with the twins, we also switched Aiden and Jaxon to a new daycare. Luckily, they have been doing AWESOME there. And I have seen a huge improvement in their behavior at home, especially with Jaxon. It definitely has been a blessing! We needed an awesome place we could depend on because yet another change happened. We moved! Well...we are in the same apartment complex, but in a bigger unit. We LOVE it. I'm so happy with it, I love having enough room for every body. As if that weren't enough change, we bought a minivan! Because...FOUR KIDS!
And the biggest change of all...after six long weeks- Baby Gavin came home yesterday!! I am so so excited to FINALLY have one of my babies home! Christian has a viral infection right now, with a cough and congestion so they want to keep him at the hospital until that is all cleared up. The good news is that today he sounds a million times better! So, hopefully he can come join us soon and our family will finally be complete!
Gavin's first night home went very smoothly! Knock on wood here, but so far he's been a very pleasant and easy baby! He is adjusting so well and I am pleased that I'm able to go right back into taking care of a newborn. I was even able to clean this morning! We'll see how long that lasts once we add one more to the mix! Haha! But I'm feeling fairly confident and I am so enjoying my new babyboos!
More to come when I can, now it's time for Mister Gavin's bath!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)