Confessions of a Blogaholic

Mammaw passed away on Friday at 1:05 pm.

She was scheduled to be taken to my mom's house that morning. Hospice came out on Thursday to set up a hospital bed and all the associated equipment (oxygen tanks and what-not). Friday morning, Mom went to the hospital to wait for her to be released. I texted around 11:15 to see if she had been taken home yet, and Mom texted back, "Call when you can." Of course, I called right away. Mom said the doctors had come in that morning to check Mammaw out and found that her feet/toes were turning purple. They said this was a sign of everything shutting down. The hospice workers told my mom Mammaw had until Saturday morning.

I asked my mom if she thought I should leave school. She said, "Well, do what you think you should do." So, I immediately told my principal I needed coverage for the afternoon. Quickly, a substitute was brought in.

I drove home, picked up Nathan, and headed to the hospital. We arrived at 1:15, and I knew something was wrong when we exited the elevator on the 4th floor. The first person we ran into was my uncle, who looked uncharacteristically upset. Thinking little of it, we went back to the room, where a sign reading, "See Nurse before entering this room" was posted on the door. My aunt came out and just from the look on her face, I knew we were too late. 10 minutes...that's it. Just 10 minutes too late.

You know....I'm surprisingly ok with all of this so far. I haven't broken down, but I have shed some tears. I guess what I remember most about my grandma is her sarcastic, smartalick personality. She was hilarious to joke with. She was funny and stubborn. I picture all the things she is doing and saying now that she is free from her earthly burdens. For a 70-year-old broad, she was very with it, very aware. I love her like a best friend, and I am glad that she doesn't have to deal with all the degeneration anymore. She was so fantastic, and I can only wish that everyone was blessed to have a grandma like her.

This time around...my memories don't hurt. I'm ok to think about everything we've done together. The things I will miss about her were things that would never have happened again regardless of how long she lived--we would never have had another road trip together, we never would have sat around at her house watching ice skating, we'd never go to Hometown or Golden Corral again, we'd (Mom, me, and Mammaw) never sit around for hours cracking up over dumb stuff...those things were gone, and now they only exist in my memories. I'm ok to see her body, because I know how beautiful she has always been...and I'm desperately thankful her cancer didn't eat away at her like it did my grandpa. I'm ok to see her house and things that remind me of her, because I know that she will always be a part of who I have become. My heart doesn't ache, my soul isn't breaking, I'm not falling apart.

I'm thankful for every single day I was given with my grandparents. I gave/give them every bit of love I could, and I will make sure they don't just disappear into history. Words will never express how important they have been and always will be to me. I absolutely love them.

Now, it's my mom's turn to step up and be a grandma :) I'm sure one day little Rylee will be saying these exact same things about her Mammaw.

I'm not ready for this...I'm not ready for this. I hate loss and death and disease and all the things that leave us grasping for words and comfort. I hate it all. I know it's natural, and I know it's bound to happen, but I've never felt more pain in my life than the pain that comes from profound loss. I'm not ready for another loss; it's too soon. I feel like everything that is left of my childhood is slowly disappearing--the people whose house I could always see from my childhood home (my grandparents) are disappearing, everything in their home will vanish soon enough, their house and the house I grew up in will someday be torn down and made into some sort of factory...it will all be a memory soon enough. I feel like I'm desperately trying to hold on to things and people despite the natural order of the world--things are supposed to change, children and grandchildren are supposed to outlive their elders, people are supposed to die of natural causes, our bodies are supposed to shut down and our hearts are supposed to stop. Why, then, does it hurt so much to lose people? Why do we feel so helpless when we know someone is passing away? Why do we want so desperately for them to hang on when we know that their passing will bring them peace?

I'm not ready to do this again. I just stopped hurting about having to put Stink down...I am so, so sad.

And yet, I have to find a way to keep myself picked up and put together for the baby. Rylee needs me to take care of myself, even though I don't want to eat and I don't want to feel happy right now. Ugh....the timing of all this is so....*sigh*

1. The Geemz is in the hospital. Lots of things wrong. I'm not sure how much longer she will hang on...she doesn't look like she wants to fight much longer. I don't know what I'll do when she is gone...

2. My belly hurts. Not my stomach or anything, but the actual skin on my belly. I feel like my skin is being stretched right above my sternum. It itches and hurts. I still don't have stretch marks, though, so I should feel pretty thankful.

3. Mammaw said today, "I haven't even gotten to feel Rylee kick." I feel oddly guilty that Nathan and I couldn't make a baby happen faster...why couldn't the first IUI work? We wouldn't have to worry so much about the timing if it had happened earlier.

4. Looks like we'll actually have a full week of school. I'm thankful. Working is an excellent distraction.

5. 25 school days until Spring Break, 45 school days until my maternity leave starts, 26 calendar days until the Baby Shower, and 35 calendar days until we move. Busy, busy.

Sometimes I think the worst part about my job is dealing with parents. Having never been the parent of a teenager myself, I can't begin to imagine how tough of a job that is. I bet it's extremely difficult to figure out when to step in, when to hold their hands, and when to kick their butts out of the nest so they can learn to support themselves. I work with teenagers...parents have 13-14 years to cut the umbilical cords before their children reach my classroom, but I am constantly astonished at the number of parents who would rather hover directly over the heads of their children than let them take some responsibility for themselves.

When your teenager can't ask his/her teacher a question his/herself and instead runs home to you and makes you (the parent) email that very question to the teacher, something is wrong.

When a teenager can use the excuse "I didn't understand" and you (the parent) attack the teacher when, in fact, your child doesn't understand because he/she was zoned out the entire class period, something is wrong.

When you (the parent) email the teacher to say you want to know why your child has an A instead of an A+ (God forbid your child JUST be an A student), something is wrong.

If you (the parent) email the teacher more than 4 times a week about a question that has already been answered 20 different ways from Sunday (by said teacher) AND is posted online for your easy viewing pleasure, something is wrong.

If you EVER do your child's work FOR THEM--whether you think you are helping them or not--something is VERY wrong, and you should reassess your life goals and ambitions for your child.

I hope I am not a helicopter parent. I hope I know when it's time for me to step back and let my child be more responsible. I know it's hard for parents to accept that their children are growing up, but there is clearly a difference between pushing your child to be their best and making them completely unresponsible for their own decisions. Let them fall out of the nest, let them learn that they need to flap their wings in order to be successful, let them learn to grow up--you cannot be there holding their hands forever.

...but what do I know...I just work with 120 of them a day and see the direct effects of the parenting they receive at home.

My belly is amazing. It is the definition of roly poly. Rylee is all over the place with somersaults and tumbling. I will miss this when she is here in my arms.

Tomorrow is V-Day, and while we tend to not celebrate it very much around here (maybe a card or just a "Happy Valentine's Day"), I thought this would be the perfect day to tell the two most important women in my life how much they mean.

I bought this for my g-ma...



Mammaw has said on many trips to Cracker Barrel how much she likes these figurines, and while she doesn't need anything taking up any more room in her life (that woman has a LOT of STUFF!!!), the meaning behind the Willow Tree "Courage" figurine is important. These are handmade figurines, and on the box of this one, it says...

"I created the first Angel of Courage in 2001 to celebrate the triumphant spirit, strength and courage we call upon to face challenges in our lives--whether they be our health, or the well-being of our loved ones...I hope this angel can be a reminder of people in our lives who inspire us with their strength and courage everyday."

I hope this little token not only serves as a constant reminder to my g-ma to have strength through her pain and while she travels the road that lies ahead, but I also hope that when my grandma is gone, this serves as a constant reminder to my own mother about the courage and strength with which my grandma fought this disease. Sometimes it's the little things in life that make us remember fondly, cherish deeply, and love forever.

EDIT: When I got to my mom's tonight, Mammaw had this to give to me...


This is the "Angel of Remembrance". Funny how great minds think alike. I believe this angel came with a package when my g-pa passed away. Mammaw had my mom grab it at her house so I could have it for my collection (I'm just starting to collect these bad boys)...she'll never know how much this little piece of wood means to me.

Sometimes I forget just how much I love my job. Having been out of school for the last few days as a result of the snow, I had so much more appreciation today for the kids, my classroom, grading, and looking out over the sea of faces. I'm a couple years in at this point (I think 3 years of teaching or so? But only 2 of those with a license), and I'm still content and satisfied. Sometimes I think about where I want to go from here, because I don't think I'll be in the classroom forever, but I know right now, I love teaching, and most of all, I LOVE teaching FRESHMEN!!! Can you believe that?? I love 9th graders; it's honestly the perfect grade for me. I can get them to work when the time comes, I can get them to listen when I need them to, and they entertain me so much the rest of the time. I am thankful to be in a career that I love so much and to be teaching at a school I enjoy.

All that being said, I am putting my resume out this year. No, I don't want to leave my school or my kids, I'm just interested in seeing what is out there (if anything). I now know how DUMB some of my interview answers were a couple years ago when I was making the circuit! And, I already have a guaranteed job, so there is no pressure to find a position--just potential opportunities. I would never trade having my own classroom with such fantastic kids for a mobile classroom (push-cart classroom) with 30 jerky students. I would never trade my relatively low pay and happiness for high pay and unhappiness. So, the stress is off. I'm just putting my resume out there and seeing if anything pops up. If so, great, what an awesome time for a new opportunity. If not, well, nothing was lost in the meantime, right??

I'm looking a little...um...homely here, but it is what it is :)

I. Hate. Snow.

First, I passed my glucose test, which is great news, because while I am seriously the epitome of great health (haha, eye roll), I was kind of concerned about this particular test.

I did not, however, pass my iron test. I somewhat saw this coming from awhile ago. I've always had excellent iron levels when I donate blood, and I've always attributed that to the vast amounts of red meat Nathan and I eat. When I had that violent vomiting episode back in November and got to taste my steak a second (and third, and fourth, and fifth...) time, I was pretty much sworn off red meat. I have not had any blood tests at all since around that time.

Beginning in mid-December, I noticed how unfathomably tired I was all the time. Most of the time, I feel like I can fall asleep at a moment's notice, and for the most part, I DO fall asleep at a moment's notice. I have been feeling unbelievably exhausted, and I kept thinking this can not be a normal feeling otherwise pregnant women would be keeling over in the streets to nap.

On top of the exhaustion, I see stars a lot. I get dizzy often. I'm out of breath very easily (including when I'm trying to teach a lesson), and I feel like I can't get anything accomplished because of my intense lack of energy. Let's not even begin to talk about my irritability.

Yes, these are all complaints of a pregnant woman, but I have been feeling these things to the extreme.

So...severe anemia is the result. I must now take 2 iron supplements a day on top of my prenatal vitamins. From what I hear, I should start feeling much better very soon. I hope so!

I just watched this movie, and I feel more committed to an unmedicated birth than ever before. I never realized how much of a "business industry" giving birth in the United States has become. I didn't know that a pitocin/epidural cocktail has so many negative effects, and I certainly didn't know that the U.S. has some of the worst statistics for births in industrialized countries (higher death rates, much higher rate of c-sections, etc.). And...I learned a lot about the history of childbirth and how it has changed throughout time in the U.S. (You should see some of the contraptions they hooked women up to in the 1920's).

I stand by my conviction that the body will do exactly what it is supposed to do, and that we (as women) are intended to go through birth as a sort of rite of passage. Again, nothing against those who choose to do otherwise, I just have to keep pumping myself up for the next 12 weeks to take this venture on :)

Mammaw went to the hospital to have fluid drained from her abdomen. I believe they got 1.3L of it, and I told her that sounds like it HAS to set some sort of record! That's a LOT of fluid. She's still here, though, and I'm appreciating all the time we have left.

Another midwife appointment this past week. I had to take my Glucose test. When I first started drinking the orange drink, I thought, "Hey! This isn't too bad!" Initially, it tasted like flat orange pop; I couldn't figure out what all the complaints are about. But...by the time I finished the crap, I knew. I, apparently, passed the test, because they said they would call the next day if there was a problem. I haven't heard anything, so I'm guessing that's good news.

Baby is laying sideways in my abdomen, which makes total sense since every time I stand up, I feel like my guts fall out of me. The midwife said we are worried about baby positioning until about 34 weeks, but at that time, if she is still not in position, we'll try some techniques to get her to move where she needs to be.

She talked about counting kicks, and I told her there's never been a day that passed when I didn't feel Miss Rylee flopping around in there. She's a VERY active little one :) At the next few appointments, the midwife said we will start talking about more educational things (i.e. the labor and delivery process itself and decisions that need to be made between now and then). She asked if I still wanted a natural, unmedicated birth, and I said yes. I'm all set to watch a movie called The Business of Being Born tonight, and I hope it reaffirms my desire to do the unmedicated birth. Though I'll admit, I get tired of people telling me, "You'll never make it!" when I tell them I'd like to go without an epidural.

I'm still very excited, though if asked, I find it a little difficult to muster up any jumping around and screaming for joy. I'm just too exhausted nowadays. Everything feels like a chore--especially cleaning. If I clean for more than 30 minutes, my back is in utter agony for the next two days. But....being as I am the only person in the house who does clean, if I don't do it and put up with the pain and inability to walk, it won't get done.

I know the saying is that God doesn't give us more than we can handle, but sometimes I wonder if He doesn't vastly overestimate my particular abilities...