Day 1 of Miscarriage 7
The nurse called and told me that my HCG levels have dropped to nothing. The pregnancy is over. I am numb. I can't do anything except sink back onto the pillows exhausted. I can't do anything today. Everything is too hard. Good thing I have chocolate hidden in my file cabinet. (I had to share with my kids.) It doesn't hurt as much as I thought. Maybe it's because I wasn't far along. I didn't have as much time to get attached. But the sad truth is, I wanted all the time I could get. This is going to hurt.
I wonder when it's going to hit me. I listen to self-improvement audio books. I work on my college application. I cook dinner. I tell my friends that I'm not pregnant after all. This is actually only half true because my abdomen is still swollen, I'm still tired and I still can't stand smells. The irony is that I've stopped bleeding, but I'm not through miscarrying. I told my in-laws that it was all over, but it's just beginning. The miscarriage will take as long as the pregnancy.
I met with my bishop so I could get his endorsement to attend BYU-Idaho. I ended up telling him everything. He was upset with the doctors for not being able to help me. He offered me a priesthood blessing, presumably, to make my body behave so I can try again and have children. He was very kind but he doesn't understand. It's too soon.
Two of my nice neighbors came over. They don't know what's going on. One brought some boots for my husband, the other brought bread sticks. He works at a pizza place.
Day 2:
It hurts so much today. I can't bear it. I'm torn between wanting to shop, and distract myself, and knowing that it won't last and the pain will come back. I also don't want to blow the budget. Restaurants and shoe stores are not going to help my financial goals.
A friend texted me a nice birthday greeting. It's not my birthday but I am appreciative. She doesn't know about my troubles. It's hard to tell people.
One friend (or maybe not a friend) offered to listen, and instead tried to point out a silver lining (which, by the way, doesn't exist as far as dead babies are concerned,) by telling me certain details about his sex life. (Insert your own expletive here.) Can I please vomit now? We are no longer friends. Good thing he lives out of town.
I used a gift card from my brother-in-law, (who lives out of town,) to take my kids out for lunch. I can't cook today. I brought salad and bread sticks home. Maybe I won't have to cook tomorrow. My visiting teacher friend, (who is also out of town!) sent me a pizza. And cheesy bread sticks. That was helpful.
I took my kids to the library and hugged them a lot. They are so sweet.
Day 3:
Today is a dreadful day. I can't sleep. My mind won't shut down.
I wish I could talk about this with someone but it's hard to do. My feelings are so raw.
My brain is stuck in a fog. I can't think the way I used to. I can't function like a normal human. I can't solve problems. I can't figure out the best way to drive from one place to another, even though I've been there a score of times. I may not even end up there at all. I can't make decisions. I can't decide whether to get up out of bed in the mornings, or what clothes to wear, or what to eat or how to get help. I can't remember how to be polite. I'm probably going to offend someone.
My closest friends, to whom I tell everything, are not available. One is out of town, one is going out of town, and one lost phone service. I wish I was kidding. Many of my other friends either live out of town or are on a trip. I don't even know how to ask for help anymore. I can't handle one more no. (I haven't gotten that many, but right now, I can't handle them.) I'm not getting support. No one has visited. No one has called. No one has sent flowers and I haven't gotten one hug.
I wish someone would come pick up my kids so I can break my heart in peace. It's odd. I'm crying because I don't get another kid, but I want to send the others away. My friend's daughters usually babysit for me but they're going on vacation. I would laugh if it weren't so sad. It's just me and the bread sticks.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Thursday, May 18, 2017
The Reason My Childhood Was Great
If you read my blogs, you probably notice something odd. Some blogs are filled with fun and laughter, while others are absolutely sober and tragic. It's almost like they're written by different people, but they're not.
My childhood was awful. My childhood was lovely...
My family was abusive and damaging. What good times we had...
These are all true and I'm not even crazy.
The Center for Disease Control and Prevention maintains a list of social, economic, family and other circumstances that indicate a high probability that a youth will engage in crime, violence, drugs and other risky behaviors. They list 31 risk factors, and generally speaking, you're considered high risk if you identify with six of them. I had 23.
There are also "protective factors" which indicate that risky behavior is less likely. Out of 20, I had 5. But there were only two that mattered.
I didn't want to be bad, get in trouble or make my mother cry. This is classified as "intolerant attitude toward deviance." And I believed God was watching me. This is classified as "religiosity." I didn't want to rebel, so I never did.
I never did anything to make my life unhappy-er, but what was it that made it happy? Where did I get my joyful memories?
Play.
We had chores, but we played. I had no friends, but I played. Any time I got a chance, I was playing, and I mean deep, creative, imaginative pretend play. We had few toys, but we became wool merchants using dryer lint. We climbed trees and our home was a palace. We built tree houses and climbed aboard a pirate ship. With a teacup from the kitchen, we made enough mud cookies to stock the pantry shelves. We bought and sold using leaves for currency.
My brothers saved up and bought GI Joe's and we dug canals, forts, trenches and swimming pools for them in the backyard. My sister wrapped small sticks in fabric to make dolls. When we had Barbie dolls, they were usually naked, so we sewed clothes for them.
We dammed up the rain gutter to make a large puddle. We built play houses. We taught the dog tricks. We went for walks, played in the sprinklers, climbed on the roof and cooked giant messes in the kitchen. We dug a giant hole in the side yard and filled it with water from the hose. We covered it with a board and hid the dirt in the garden. We dressed up in whatever we could find; sheets, shawls, pillows, hats, curtains and old dresses and jackets. And where we went, our ragdolls went too.
We picnicked at home, camped in the backyard, (jumped the fence to "steal" the neighbor's peaches--he said we could!) danced in the rain, sang all the time, raided the fridge and shot BB guns at green army men. We even made our own bows and arrows, our own wooden swords, used trash can lids as shields and played war games. We hung up sheets and blankets and built tents in our room. We made up silly Limericks. We read books, as many as we could get. We counted the stars, blew dandelions, skipped stones, ran races and whistled. We made up skits, told funny jokes and our tea parties were disastrously lovely.
We were in charge. We were fairies. We were the police.We were doctors, detectives, soldiers and queens. We were orphans, mermaids, cowboys and Lost Boys. We were Indians. (A lot.) And we were families; parents and children. We were rich as a sultan and poor as a mite. We could be anything. We could have anything.
We lived and played simply, but we imagined richly. What could be more enchanting?
Yes, there were bad things. Really, REALLY bad things that happened. Things that require therapy, things I'm angry about even still. But playtime is not one of them.
I am happy today and I know how to have fun. I'm grateful for the hours of beauty that were granted me, that saved me. And I know what kind of childhood I want to give my kids.
There will be love, There will be kisses, and stories and forgiveness and chances and freedom and God, and there. will. be. MUD.
My childhood was awful. My childhood was lovely...
My family was abusive and damaging. What good times we had...
These are all true and I'm not even crazy.
The Center for Disease Control and Prevention maintains a list of social, economic, family and other circumstances that indicate a high probability that a youth will engage in crime, violence, drugs and other risky behaviors. They list 31 risk factors, and generally speaking, you're considered high risk if you identify with six of them. I had 23.
There are also "protective factors" which indicate that risky behavior is less likely. Out of 20, I had 5. But there were only two that mattered.
I didn't want to be bad, get in trouble or make my mother cry. This is classified as "intolerant attitude toward deviance." And I believed God was watching me. This is classified as "religiosity." I didn't want to rebel, so I never did.
I never did anything to make my life unhappy-er, but what was it that made it happy? Where did I get my joyful memories?
Play.
We had chores, but we played. I had no friends, but I played. Any time I got a chance, I was playing, and I mean deep, creative, imaginative pretend play. We had few toys, but we became wool merchants using dryer lint. We climbed trees and our home was a palace. We built tree houses and climbed aboard a pirate ship. With a teacup from the kitchen, we made enough mud cookies to stock the pantry shelves. We bought and sold using leaves for currency.
My brothers saved up and bought GI Joe's and we dug canals, forts, trenches and swimming pools for them in the backyard. My sister wrapped small sticks in fabric to make dolls. When we had Barbie dolls, they were usually naked, so we sewed clothes for them.
We dammed up the rain gutter to make a large puddle. We built play houses. We taught the dog tricks. We went for walks, played in the sprinklers, climbed on the roof and cooked giant messes in the kitchen. We dug a giant hole in the side yard and filled it with water from the hose. We covered it with a board and hid the dirt in the garden. We dressed up in whatever we could find; sheets, shawls, pillows, hats, curtains and old dresses and jackets. And where we went, our ragdolls went too.
We picnicked at home, camped in the backyard, (jumped the fence to "steal" the neighbor's peaches--he said we could!) danced in the rain, sang all the time, raided the fridge and shot BB guns at green army men. We even made our own bows and arrows, our own wooden swords, used trash can lids as shields and played war games. We hung up sheets and blankets and built tents in our room. We made up silly Limericks. We read books, as many as we could get. We counted the stars, blew dandelions, skipped stones, ran races and whistled. We made up skits, told funny jokes and our tea parties were disastrously lovely.
We were in charge. We were fairies. We were the police.We were doctors, detectives, soldiers and queens. We were orphans, mermaids, cowboys and Lost Boys. We were Indians. (A lot.) And we were families; parents and children. We were rich as a sultan and poor as a mite. We could be anything. We could have anything.
We lived and played simply, but we imagined richly. What could be more enchanting?
Yes, there were bad things. Really, REALLY bad things that happened. Things that require therapy, things I'm angry about even still. But playtime is not one of them.
I am happy today and I know how to have fun. I'm grateful for the hours of beauty that were granted me, that saved me. And I know what kind of childhood I want to give my kids.
There will be love, There will be kisses, and stories and forgiveness and chances and freedom and God, and there. will. be. MUD.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
I Am a Struggling Parent, And Why That's Awesome
It took my by surprise. Blew my mind, actually. I was sitting in Relief Society (that's a meeting for women in my church,) and sharing what our family does for Family Home Evening, and the teacher (who I like) told me, in front of the whole class, that I was doing it wrong. There it was, my least favorite phrase: "Wait until they're teenagers."
Least Helpful Words Ever
I hate hearing this because there's either no hope for me or there seems to be a melancholy satisfaction in the speaker when they say it. They expect, quite triumphantly, that I won't do any better than they did. It's irritating, disheartening and unnecessary, but mostly it's false.
That's right, Their assumption is false because it is based on exactly that--assumption. They don't have a full picture of what goes on at home and cannot possibly know how my kids are going to turn out. I haven't the least wish to compare myself to others--as if anyone could do it accurately! Even if parenting were a contest, I wouldn't take my coaching from the spectators. My children, husband and God know best what I do right and wrong. They're in this with me, and they understand the context of my decisions.
"Wait until you have teenagers." The phrase is annoying. Being called out in front of the class was not my favorite. But the biggest problem here is the erroneous idea that there is only one right way to parent; only one right way to have family home evening; only one right way to raise kids who don't fall away. (I'll come back to this falling away thing.)
The Story
There I was, sitting with all these lovely Christian women as they shared personal insights. I shared too. I admitted that I struggle with planning our FHE ahead of time and I mentioned that we typically don't do a treat or activity. I said that we make it as easy and simple as possible, so we can make sure it happens.
Apparently, this is wrong. Because I said that I struggled, they assumed that I wasn't consistent, even though we have Family Home Evening every week. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I wasn't doing a good job. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I was failing and that my children wouldn't learn the gospel.
This is wrong. Assuming is inaccurate, and we need to deal with some definitions here.
What Struggle Is Not
Struggle does not mean inconsistent. Struggle does not mean poor quality. Struggle does not mean neglect. Struggle means it was HARD. That's it. And it is hard.
What Struggle Is
Planning ahead does not come naturally to me. I'm not great planner, but even I know that the lesson comes out better if I prepare even one hour in advance. Planning is a struggle. It does not mean I've given up. In fact, to struggle is the OPPOSITE of giving up. If you gave up, that would be the end of that struggle.
Irritated Rant
And who decided that Family Home Evening had to be done the same way every time and by every family? Who decided that it had to follow a set pattern without variation? I find that boring, unnecessary and impractical. We have only ONE unassailable rule for our parenting and our Family Home Evening: We do what works. What works in one family may not work in another. What works for us now may not work later. Our plans change based on our family's needs. I think this will work forever, because we only do what works.
What I Shared in Class
We keep it simple. Simplicity in parenting is a goal, not an unfortunate by-product of laziness. It's a struggle to make simplicity out of chaos, but it's important to our mental health. I'm busy and can think of no benefit of making myself and everyone else grumpy.
I shared that we don't do treats and activities most of the time. I never said it was an accident, that I didn't feel good about it or that I wanted it to change. Because I don't. We choose not to do a treat because we care about our health and the obesity epidemic. It is by design that we make treats the exception and not the rule. Additionally, sometimes it's a struggle, but I don't want to teach my kids that FHE is just for the treat. I wan't to teach them that we love our family and we love Jesus. We don't always do activities because we don't always have time. This is also a struggle---and why we need simplicity. It doesn't mean that we don't spend time together doing fun things as a family throughout the week. We do. And the lack of constant treats and activities doesn't mean that my kids don't enjoy our family night. They love it. (We cuddle for most of it.)
But, "Wait until you have teenagers." As if that means the kids will rebel and leave the church, and if they do, that means failure.
Practicable Priorities
I think we need to rediscover our priorities here. I'm placing a higher priority on the Who, What and Why, of family and gospel living, and less on the How, When and Where. My priority is not to have a "perfect" family night or a "perfect" family. My priority is not even that the kids won't leave the church. My priority is to love, teach, guide and help them have their own relationship with God. When they can feel God's love, when they know that He is real, when they can talk to Him and receive answers from Him as with a best friend, they will know what to do to be happy. They will do it because they want to. Or, they won't.
It's great to be organized, to plan and have a routine. It's wonderful if you can have an orderly, meeting where everything is planned and done right. However, if your priority is to have a perfectly executed Family Home Evening, you are placing your dependence on what other people will and will not do. This is even more true for kids falling away, or not falling away. If this is your priority, you may be disappointed.
The Illusion of Control
We don't have robot children. We have actual people and whatever their size, they resist being controlled. The older they get, the more they resist. This is partially why some parents dread having teens. There is not now and never will be a guarantee that our children will want the same things that we want or will do the same things that we do. They might, but it's up to them.
Parents have zero control over how their kids will turn out. They can teach, they can persuade, they can love and they can still fail, whatever their definition of failure is. On the other side of the coin, they can be abusive, cruel and neglectful and still have great kids who stay out of trouble and eventually, after much therapy, grow up to be happy, productive members of society. It's not common, but I've seen it happen. (I'm not advocating abuse here.) Generally speaking, the more you try to control, the less you are able to. Luckily for us as parents, we don't have to do the control thing.
Parents have healthy influence over their children's choices, inasmuch as their children want to please their parents. This comes without force and is a product of love and trust, similarly to how we want to serve Christ because of what He has done for us. "We love Him, because he first loved us." (John 4:19.)
I don't want my kids to get into trouble, and I hope they will find joy in the Church as I do. But I will not force them. Indeed, I can think of nothing more disastrous. The greatest gift of the gospel is the Atonement, which gives us our agency. We love agency. We, as humans crave it. I find that the truest part of parenting is that people will do what they choose, and they choose primarily what they want.
Influence And Logic
My personal parenting philosophy is that kids should be taught as early as possible how to make good decisions on their own, which is one reason to hold a weekly Family Home Evening. I teach them about consequences so they can choose which consequences they want. They will struggle and it is good for them because they're learning self-control. (!!!) I hug my kids and tell them how great they are. I listen to their problems so that they know I'm their ally and not their enemy. Instead of blaming and punishing, we work on solving problems and learning from mistakes. We're flexible with Family Home Evening and other meetings and don't demand a rigid discipline on holding still or attentive listening. They're so young---and, let's face it, adults don't even hold perfectly still or listen all the time. We want them to like it, not be bored or nitpicked.
They do what I ask because they love me. Or, they do exactly as they please because they're human. If it's not irrevocable, I let it go. It's hard. It's a struggle but I trust them to find their way, and they're getting good practice. Will this guarantee that I have super docile teenagers? Probably not. I expect them to push back. I expect not to always enjoy it. But I also believe that they will turn out great and I tell them so. Basically, I follow my heart, and the Spirit.
And I actually love teenagers.
(I was a really nice teenager. Karma, you know.)
The Struggle Is Real
I am struggling though. Sticking to my decisions, following through with my plans, not throwing charity out the window on a stressful day, is difficult. Getting up each day and trying again, trying to better myself and realize my goals, trying to keep it all together and be there for my family, is exhausting. Trying to obey all the commandments and doing volunteer service, plus being patient in affliction and keeping my temper, is tough. Being patient with people when they make mistakes, trying to set a good example for others while not judging them or preaching at them, admitting when I am wrong, can be hard. Cooking three meals a day, while trying to stay on top of the laundry, dishes, pet care, errands, carpool, extracurricular activities, homework and still be willing to drop everything to listen to my son talk about how his day went, is a miracle.
Trying to be a sweet and accepting wife, and hardworking human being, and a clean, well-groomed, social and sane individual, while punctually balancing everything else I need to do, (read, budget,) is tricky. Fitting in a workout and a scripture study, is hard. Yes, I struggle, and that doesn't mean I'm failing. It means I'm a rockstar. It means I get up and do it again. It means I'm a good mom. It means that nobody can do it better. I've got the Who,Why and What figured out. I will cut me some slack and the How, Where and When.
Least Helpful Words Ever
I hate hearing this because there's either no hope for me or there seems to be a melancholy satisfaction in the speaker when they say it. They expect, quite triumphantly, that I won't do any better than they did. It's irritating, disheartening and unnecessary, but mostly it's false.
That's right, Their assumption is false because it is based on exactly that--assumption. They don't have a full picture of what goes on at home and cannot possibly know how my kids are going to turn out. I haven't the least wish to compare myself to others--as if anyone could do it accurately! Even if parenting were a contest, I wouldn't take my coaching from the spectators. My children, husband and God know best what I do right and wrong. They're in this with me, and they understand the context of my decisions.
"Wait until you have teenagers." The phrase is annoying. Being called out in front of the class was not my favorite. But the biggest problem here is the erroneous idea that there is only one right way to parent; only one right way to have family home evening; only one right way to raise kids who don't fall away. (I'll come back to this falling away thing.)
The Story
Apparently, this is wrong. Because I said that I struggled, they assumed that I wasn't consistent, even though we have Family Home Evening every week. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I wasn't doing a good job. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I was failing and that my children wouldn't learn the gospel.
This is wrong. Assuming is inaccurate, and we need to deal with some definitions here.
What Struggle Is Not
Struggle does not mean inconsistent. Struggle does not mean poor quality. Struggle does not mean neglect. Struggle means it was HARD. That's it. And it is hard.
What Struggle Is
Planning ahead does not come naturally to me. I'm not great planner, but even I know that the lesson comes out better if I prepare even one hour in advance. Planning is a struggle. It does not mean I've given up. In fact, to struggle is the OPPOSITE of giving up. If you gave up, that would be the end of that struggle.
Irritated Rant
And who decided that Family Home Evening had to be done the same way every time and by every family? Who decided that it had to follow a set pattern without variation? I find that boring, unnecessary and impractical. We have only ONE unassailable rule for our parenting and our Family Home Evening: We do what works. What works in one family may not work in another. What works for us now may not work later. Our plans change based on our family's needs. I think this will work forever, because we only do what works.
What I Shared in Class
We keep it simple. Simplicity in parenting is a goal, not an unfortunate by-product of laziness. It's a struggle to make simplicity out of chaos, but it's important to our mental health. I'm busy and can think of no benefit of making myself and everyone else grumpy.
I shared that we don't do treats and activities most of the time. I never said it was an accident, that I didn't feel good about it or that I wanted it to change. Because I don't. We choose not to do a treat because we care about our health and the obesity epidemic. It is by design that we make treats the exception and not the rule. Additionally, sometimes it's a struggle, but I don't want to teach my kids that FHE is just for the treat. I wan't to teach them that we love our family and we love Jesus. We don't always do activities because we don't always have time. This is also a struggle---and why we need simplicity. It doesn't mean that we don't spend time together doing fun things as a family throughout the week. We do. And the lack of constant treats and activities doesn't mean that my kids don't enjoy our family night. They love it. (We cuddle for most of it.)
But, "Wait until you have teenagers." As if that means the kids will rebel and leave the church, and if they do, that means failure.
Practicable Priorities
I think we need to rediscover our priorities here. I'm placing a higher priority on the Who, What and Why, of family and gospel living, and less on the How, When and Where. My priority is not to have a "perfect" family night or a "perfect" family. My priority is not even that the kids won't leave the church. My priority is to love, teach, guide and help them have their own relationship with God. When they can feel God's love, when they know that He is real, when they can talk to Him and receive answers from Him as with a best friend, they will know what to do to be happy. They will do it because they want to. Or, they won't.
It's great to be organized, to plan and have a routine. It's wonderful if you can have an orderly, meeting where everything is planned and done right. However, if your priority is to have a perfectly executed Family Home Evening, you are placing your dependence on what other people will and will not do. This is even more true for kids falling away, or not falling away. If this is your priority, you may be disappointed.
The Illusion of Control
We don't have robot children. We have actual people and whatever their size, they resist being controlled. The older they get, the more they resist. This is partially why some parents dread having teens. There is not now and never will be a guarantee that our children will want the same things that we want or will do the same things that we do. They might, but it's up to them.
Parents have zero control over how their kids will turn out. They can teach, they can persuade, they can love and they can still fail, whatever their definition of failure is. On the other side of the coin, they can be abusive, cruel and neglectful and still have great kids who stay out of trouble and eventually, after much therapy, grow up to be happy, productive members of society. It's not common, but I've seen it happen. (I'm not advocating abuse here.) Generally speaking, the more you try to control, the less you are able to. Luckily for us as parents, we don't have to do the control thing.
Parents have healthy influence over their children's choices, inasmuch as their children want to please their parents. This comes without force and is a product of love and trust, similarly to how we want to serve Christ because of what He has done for us. "We love Him, because he first loved us." (John 4:19.)
I don't want my kids to get into trouble, and I hope they will find joy in the Church as I do. But I will not force them. Indeed, I can think of nothing more disastrous. The greatest gift of the gospel is the Atonement, which gives us our agency. We love agency. We, as humans crave it. I find that the truest part of parenting is that people will do what they choose, and they choose primarily what they want.
Influence And Logic
My personal parenting philosophy is that kids should be taught as early as possible how to make good decisions on their own, which is one reason to hold a weekly Family Home Evening. I teach them about consequences so they can choose which consequences they want. They will struggle and it is good for them because they're learning self-control. (!!!) I hug my kids and tell them how great they are. I listen to their problems so that they know I'm their ally and not their enemy. Instead of blaming and punishing, we work on solving problems and learning from mistakes. We're flexible with Family Home Evening and other meetings and don't demand a rigid discipline on holding still or attentive listening. They're so young---and, let's face it, adults don't even hold perfectly still or listen all the time. We want them to like it, not be bored or nitpicked.
They do what I ask because they love me. Or, they do exactly as they please because they're human. If it's not irrevocable, I let it go. It's hard. It's a struggle but I trust them to find their way, and they're getting good practice. Will this guarantee that I have super docile teenagers? Probably not. I expect them to push back. I expect not to always enjoy it. But I also believe that they will turn out great and I tell them so. Basically, I follow my heart, and the Spirit.
And I actually love teenagers.
(I was a really nice teenager. Karma, you know.)
The Struggle Is Real
I am struggling though. Sticking to my decisions, following through with my plans, not throwing charity out the window on a stressful day, is difficult. Getting up each day and trying again, trying to better myself and realize my goals, trying to keep it all together and be there for my family, is exhausting. Trying to obey all the commandments and doing volunteer service, plus being patient in affliction and keeping my temper, is tough. Being patient with people when they make mistakes, trying to set a good example for others while not judging them or preaching at them, admitting when I am wrong, can be hard. Cooking three meals a day, while trying to stay on top of the laundry, dishes, pet care, errands, carpool, extracurricular activities, homework and still be willing to drop everything to listen to my son talk about how his day went, is a miracle.
Trying to be a sweet and accepting wife, and hardworking human being, and a clean, well-groomed, social and sane individual, while punctually balancing everything else I need to do, (read, budget,) is tricky. Fitting in a workout and a scripture study, is hard. Yes, I struggle, and that doesn't mean I'm failing. It means I'm a rockstar. It means I get up and do it again. It means I'm a good mom. It means that nobody can do it better. I've got the Who,Why and What figured out. I will cut me some slack and the How, Where and When.
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