Tag: parent

Children

Life With An Earthling And Two Angels In Heaven

shelie277 Comments

The day you were born, I didn’t hold you right away. The doctor showed you to me and then had to stitch me up. They pushed my bed through the lobby. Where your grandpa, uncles, aunts, and friends would greet us with smiles, and tears. They said how beautiful you were, and how much you looked like me.The nurse got me settled in my room and told me it would be an hour before they let friends and family in. They wanted the anatesia to wear off and monitor my stats. The nurse asked if I wanted to see you, I shook my head yes.

When she put you in my arms. I didn’t count your fingers and toes. I ran my hand over your face, arms and legs. I was in awe of the thickness of your skin. I not only, seen your hair, I lifted you up to my face, rubbing it up and down against my cheek. I rubbed my finger up and down your  perfectly in tact nose. The nurse was giving me pain meds, taking my vitals, checking my incision, and you were screaming your head off. I lied there, with you in my arms screaming. I wasn’t hearing a thing. The nurse must have had enough, because she came up to the head of my bed, put her arm around me, smiled and said, “I think he may be hungry”. We untied my gown to see if you would latch onto me but you wanted nothing to do with breastfeeding. They asked me if it was okay to give you a bottle, because your blood sugar tested low. In which I agreed.

Family and friends came in and took over. Holding you, feeding you, changing you, and enjoying a new baby like they should. I must have fell asleep during visiting hours, because when I woke up. The room was empty, except daddy he was asleep. I pushed the call bell to ask them to bring you down and they did. I tried waking your dad up but he was dead to the world. I grabbed you out of your warmer to  hold and enjoy you in my arms. I thought for a minute, the lining around your lips was turning blue but chucked it up to nerves, then it happened again. I called the nurse, I  yelled he’s “turning blue” they raced in, grabbed you, held you up to the light, turned you from side to side, shaking her head saying “I don’t see anything”. She handed you back and I was scared frozen. She left the room. I held you like I was balancing a spoon on my nose. I looked down at you, without moving my head,  your lips turned blue again. I yelled and they came running. They held you up to the light, and said “were gonna take him down to the nursery, we can keep an eye on him”. She didn’t tell me she agreed.  I asked, her what she seen?  She said “we will keep an eye on him”. The old, no jumping to conclusions move. I know this move all to well, and it’s not a good place to be standing.

That night, they came in, and told me and your dad that your oxygen level was dipping down into the forties. They had to keep you in the neonatal unit, to observe you. They kept oxygen, by your bed, in case they had to use it. They said once it lowered it would rise back up instantly and because of it rising up, you didn’t have to wear the oxygen full-time. This is also called destating, it happens to premature babies, although you weighed eight pounds and six ounces, you were big, but little. They delivered you at thirty-six weeks, there is forty in gestation.

I shut down, when they gave me this news. It was another punch in the upper left side of my chest.There was no reason, for no hope, but to a grieving mother it’s all or nothing. I have sat on pins and needles ever since that day. I have beat myself up over these last years, realizing you were behind and blaming myself for holding you to close. Checking on you through the night, making sure, I seen the rise and fall, keeping you from others without being there, in case someone decided to run off with you, driving by the school playground just so I can see that your alive and well. I realized as I sat in the doctor’s office with you earlier today and pondered on all these thoughts as I watched you jumping, skipping, and rolling around on the floor.

That you are my sunshine

My only sunshine, son, you

make me happy when

skies are gray

only God knows how much

I love you and I know he can

take you any day.

I hand his life over to you, because, even here on earth, with me. He is still yours, and he needs you just as much as I do.

I sat at my twin boys grave, that day in August. I closed my eyes, visioning,  Jesus, holding both of my baby boys in each of his arms, swaddled perfectly, in white. In that field of green, and the bluest of skies with peace that surpasses all understanding.

Family · Home

Crying-Out-Loud

shelie2732 Comments

Last night cooking supper I noticed our bird hanging upside from his food bowl. I gave our parrot a smile and continued fixing our supper. When I walked by the cage again he was sitting on the bottom with his green feathers puffed out. I stood at his cage for a moment staring in on him. He usually don’t  sit in one place at the bottom of his cage. He either rubs his beak trying to get something off or he’s picking food off his floor. I read one time in a parrot pamphlet, “its abnormal behavior for them to be sitting on the bottom” I bent down opened his door and grabbed him out to take a closer look. When I put him on my finger he didn’t clinch it with his tight sharp grip, I embraced him in my hand and gently flipped him over to check out his feet thinking he may of hurt one, this was not the case. He did not fight me at all while accessing him and upon noticing this my heart started beating faster, thoughts racing and it was getting harder to focus. I then notice him opening his beak but nothing  was coming out, not a chirp or peck. There was a bit of food on his beak which calmed me down, for a second thinking this was the problem. Unfortunately, he was still struggling to breath. I put him back down realizing he was on his way out, opened the back door where my husband hangs out on the deck and chain smokes. “Steve the bird is dying, what the hell did you do to him”? My husband being his calm self “nothing” he continued to puff away as the door slammed! It took a minute to start rationalizing because of hurt and panic. I knew he was dying and also new that it was too late in the game to head into town to the vet. The last time one of my animals went into respiratory distress. I got to the office, handed him over to the vet, as he started toward the back to check him out, the kitten died. The vet billed me for the hand off…

When Steven came in, I shared my thoughts on the subject, he did not disagree. We took Saltine in our room to pass. I felt this was to heavy for Gabe to know and watch.”Salty” died minutes later. I cried the rest of the time cooking supper my husband called out my name which was a prompt to “get a hold of myself'” I still stood at the sink slowly washing dishes with my back turned to my son. He then started telling me a story and when he was done. He asked me a question about his story. When I wouldn’t turn around he started digging his way in front of the sink and me “mom answer my question” ( I would have if I knew what he had asked).

“mom are you crying over my story”

“yes with a loud wail”

Children · Family · Home

A Different Perspective

shelie274 Comments

I was talking on the phone with my friend Michelle the other day about what I wanted to do with my life. It’s always been a regular conversation piece with us. She’s grounded and always challenges my pipe dreams. I told her I was thinking about changing my career path in school. (which by the way I have never started) to Social work. I do lots of talking and dreaming, please don’t feel like you need to chime in and tell me I can do it or still have time. It’s not what I-am going after in this post.

“Shelley I think you should continue to counsel people like you have been doing most of your life I think once you go into that career there’s red tape, it might mangle your outlook and damage the angle you do take with people.

I would suppose there is lots of truth in what she said

As long as I can remember people have confided in me, not only sharing their ideas or rundavoos but tragedies, mistakes, and what ifs. In my middle-age years I’ve come to think of it as a gift. I believe I was given the gift of love. It’s always been easy for me to do, more than the alternative. I will admit sometimes I fudge up but I try to keep my eye on the ball. I made a pact to myself when I was younger that I wouldn’t call people names for what they looked like or what they did or didn’t have. As I grew older my pact grew.

When your younger it’s all about looks, what you wear, and money. In your older years those things do follow but people start damning you for your choices, thoughts, and mistakes. I-am not going to tell you that I sit and agree with everything that is shared with me. It’s not my place to try to fix or change anyone either. My place in this world is  to love and you can never steer anyone wrong with love.

One year in Two-Thousand-Three or Four, I was working with a cook. She worked every other weekend with me. On Sundays it was always just me and her working. She lived right behind the building we worked in. In the mornings from the dining room windows I would watch as she stumbled into work late.

She was tall, skinny and had light-brown shoulder link hair, It looked like she didn’t brush it. I would open the back door for her and she would say, “It was another rough night Shelley”.  I would smile, say hello and act like I didn’t hear what she said, not because of conflict but because the heaviness in her eyes and the frown on her face told me a story.

I knew I would hear

We were taking a break in the living-room of our job one fall afternoon. I can still see the multicolored colored leaves on all the tress around the windows that lined the Living-room of where we were sitting. She was on one couch and I was on another one across from her. She slurred asking me “How my day was going” being so long ago I don’t quite remember what I told her, knowing me something light-hearted one of the residents did or said to cheer up the moment of awkwardness, we had going on since we hadn’t had too much conversation.

Her: Do you have any children?

Me: No

We sat in silence for a few brief moment after I answered my question. Deep down for some reason I didn’t feel lead to return the question but noticed her head dropped down right along with her face as I gave her a look and a smile.

Her: Do you want any?

“Someday”

Her:  I have three children my oldest are sixteen and eighteen, they’re in Foster-Care. We get to visit on Wednesdays if they want to see me, which usually they do.

“It’s nice you all get together”

Her: We talk about their sister who is three. She just got adopted. It’s an open adoption and in this open adoption they get pictures of her, and I don’t. They show them to me when we visit. We will spend our visit discussing the pictures. They’re a good conversation piece.

The couple who adopted her lives in the country. Before the adoption went through, they were nice enough to let me come out for home visits. After we had gotten acquainted. They have a nice big yard for her to play in, with one of those big wooden swing-sets, a pool and animals. She’s happy Shelley and that’s all that matters. As her voice cracked tears streamed down my face just like they are right now.

“I’m glad she’s happy”

Her: You want to know something? Some days I take a drive out where she lives. If she’s playing outside, I pull over and watch her. I daydream about getting out of my car, walking up into the field, stand there and see if she sees me. I wonder if she would come running yelling “mommy” Mommy” and remember who I am. I come back to reality. I have multiple addictions and have for years, I just can’t do it.

I nodded my head and told her crying, Thank you for sharing not only a painful but dark-side of your life with me, also for giving me a different perspective to an Open Adoption.

Towards the end of my Foster-Care Class, the teacher was on the subject of Open Adoption and asked the class “Could you be a part of one”?

I raised my hand and told her and the class the same exact encounter I had with this woman “yes I wouldn’t have made a life changing decision to be a Foster Parent without this mother of a child who forfeited her “happiness” for a lifetime of heartache and what ifs.

Daily Post · Family

Unto The Breach

shelie272 Comments
Grab a coffee and get comfy!
You may grab a java and get comfy!

Dear Friends,

Decisions, decisions How are you more likely to make an important decision-by reasoning through it, or by going with your gut?

If you would have asked me this question about four months back, I would have told you that I contemplated on all my decision. I would call my three life lines and run things by them asking what they thought?  After having confirmation from them, I would still teeter and stagnate. Sometime its easier to play it safe, Don’t you think? One of my procrastinations was moving, yes moving out of the Tin Can. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was a trailer. We had not been good at keeping the trailer up. The home needed some repairs. There were some dents in the floor, the carpet had been there since I moved in eight years ago, windows were cracking and leaking, the place just needed to be refurbished. If I knew then what I know now I would have made the changes it needed before moving in. If you want me to be real though. My finances at the time would not allow me to do the repairs, it needed then. It was perfect for me than because it was just myself and my foster baby. He was getting ready to leave and go live with his grandma. This was not a choice of mine. We prayed and prayed. The day they tested his D.n.a, because an older lady thought he’d  belonged to her son. If that was the case she wanted to step up. My family and I fought hard for the little, dark, chunk of burning love but we lost… He brought us seven months of joy and the decision was out of my hands.

We had to make a decision about the trailer. To put money the money we had into it or find something else. We wracked our brains and eyes, always driving around looking but nothing more than looking. I was getting board and confused about what my husband wanted to do. He wasn’t saying much. I was overwhelmed with all the things we accumulated and needed to get rid of because they were collecting dust. I made a phone call one day to my dad and told him basically what I wrote to all of you. He informed me that I was holding myself back and gave me clarity.

Dad: Shelley, Sometimes you have to hold your nose and jump in. I would be still living in the trailer you grew up in, if  I hadn’t jumped. You make your decision than you learn that sometimes there right and sometimes there wrong. The only way you’ll find out, is by taking a chance. You’re a good judge and whatever you choose to do I-am confident you will be okay.

We made the move and I feel so much better. We did not buy a house, yet. We our living in a five-room duplex its small, remodeled and clean. We got rid of all those things that were collecting dust, if we need any maintenance work we just call the landlord. This works for us right now because we work, have a child, and a marriage to maintain. We decided at this point we’re not big fix it people. So if we bought a house we might end up right back in the situation we started in. If there is one thing I try to live by that also came from my dad years ago. “Never Back Only Forward”