Tag: places in the heart

Family · friendship

Laughing To The Grave Part 2

shelie2715 Comments

Writing on my blog has not been easy lately. I’m not going to lie. I look around at some of your post, and think my God, where can I get a blog like them… It’s not the size, I envy. It’s your writing style, your format, your flow, pictures, fonts, and the time that looks like you put into your blog. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t sit at the table with my elbow on it, leaning against my hand, for hours. It just makes me more aware of what and how I write. My cohort told me the other night.

“When it comes down to it, what matters is that people understand what you’re trying to say”

A few things have been keeping my family down in the dumps, my husband and I mainly. I won’t go into it too much, because you heard it all before. I would rather make us both laugh, how bout it?

A few weeks ago, Emmet was under the weather, and just not acting normal. My supervisor asked me to take her into the Emergency Room. They were getting her checked in, asking her questions about who, what, when, where, and why.

“Where is it, that you live?”

Emmet: The Jerry Kline Home For The Blind

“What Did you say”

Emmet: She then, slowly, broke-down all the words, and repeated herself

“Ok”

Emmet: busted out singing the nursery rhyme “Three Blind mice”

The same night, my husband and I were getting ready to go to bed. He had stepped out of our room for just a few minutes. I had a pill to take in my hand and of course dropped it. I was in-between the bed and the wall, on all fours, running my hand across the floor, trying to find that tiny thing.My husband walked backed in the room while I was on the hunt. He yells my name like he lost me in a crowd at a carnival. He scared the crap out of me. I pop up and say “What the hell, is going on”

Him: I did not see you, I thought the rapture had taken place and the lord took you instead of me…

My son and I got out-of-town, a few weeks ago. We went to a graduation. It was down by my home-town. On our way back home, we stopped in to see an old friend. Gabe asked them if we could use their bathroom. I went with him, because I had to go as well. He tripped over a toy and put his hand through a hole, which you could tell had been there already. He looks up at me, motions me to come in closer, when I get face to face with him, he looks around and back again at me.

Mom: I think their house is ripping apart!

I know you’re aware we follow Jesus, since my son was born I have let him know he can talk to him anytime. It does not matter where you’re, what you’re doing, it’s as simple as talking to me. The other day he found a spider in our house. He was squatted down, following it around. He motioned me to come look at it and I did. I grabbed a shoe and smashed it!

Gabe: JESUS, LOOK OUT!

Children · Family

Hanging On To My family By A Thread

shelie2712 Comments

This morning hasn’t started off good. I had made an appointment, a  month ago, for today. I thought it was for ten-o-clock but it was for nine-o-clock, which is weird, Gabe starts school around then. This was the second time, they have re-scheduled me. The receptionist called me at nine, asking if I was there?  I said no, I thought it was at ten? She shuffled through her papers while continuing to say hmm, “no, my Calendar says nine” (swallowing crow) I said: it’s my fault and I’m nowhere near the office, I’m sorry. I talked to my mom a bit about the situation. She told me to start writing things down, and how there is an app, that will remind you, of the appointments you have.

It’s all well in good, but writing things down is a downfall of mine. I hung up the phone and checked the weather. I noticed one of the anchor ladies, on the news site. Stacey Skrysak. My mother had posted this post of her’s, on my fb page, a while back ago. It has been my favorite piece of writing ever since.

My eye’s filled up this morning with tears as I read her post this morning. I thought about having to wait another month to get Ativan for my panic-attacks. They come on like a deer jumping out in front of your  car. I do have some daily medication, it don’t always cut it. It helps but not fully.

They started over a year ago.

One night, around three, I woke up to what felt like a water hose of adrenaline filling up my body. I shot STRAIGHT UP into a sitting position and gasped for air, slid out of bed, and into the bathroom. Where I noticed my melons shaking back and forth with every beat of my heart. I thought about taking a Xanax that belonged to my husband. I stared at them thinking about the knowledge I knew. With being a nurses aid. My heart was going to need medical assistance and the hospital would not like to hear that I took medication that was not mine.

I woke up my husband and told him he would have to stay with our son. I called the ambulance to take me to the emergency room. He hated doing such, but all in all this is why we have each other. I told him to take him to school in the morning and he could meet me afterwards.

When the ambulance picked me up. I walked out and climbed into the back and laid on the stretcher. The guy started to put in a Iv. He told me if  my heart rate did not slow down he was going to be ordered to give me a medicine, that basically stops the heart for a second. He did not want to have to use it on the ambulance but would if he had too. He asked me some questions about my life. I was able to get comfortable with him. I asked if he had seen this happen with a lot patients? “all the time” we got to the hospital and they had a room waiting for me and started asking me questions.

Had I taken illegal drugs?

Did I take anything at all?

I told them a Sudafed, actually two within that day.

If you took anything illegal, you can tell us, we won’t turn you in?

No, I did not take any drugs!

The doctor came in and ordered medicine that would drip slow. He thought it may help bring down my heart-rate and if he could bring it down. He could see more about what was going on.

I laid there in that one moment, thinking this could be the beginning to the end of my life.

Who knows, what they would tell me?

I’ve had a heart problem before.

Where there is one rat there are a hundred more you don’t see.

What about my husband, my son, my dad, my mom, how will they get through it?

I’ve been in the shallow part of water when it comes to loosing a child

After placing my feet on dry land, I changed.

In one blink of one eye

I lost a family of four. I lost a piece of my husband, my sons Will and Gabe, I lost half of myself, and any thought that life, would last into our thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, seventies, and so on. I lost being grateful, for my family, when hearing of another families misfortune. Because just as you thank God it wasn’t your son or your daughter. You’re  thinking to soon. I’m thankful every second, every minute, of every hour for the life with my family.

The fear I have, isn’t the dying part. It’s the loss, the grief, one would have to feel. It’s the hollowness in a room filled with furniture, clothes, and toys. The silence when all you want to hear is crying. The passerby’s you don’t know but wish you did, so they would stop for a second, while you try to wrap your head around what had happened. It’s the guilt and the choices you made before the boom. It’s the guilt that your gone and I’m here. It’s the triggers, like missing an appointment to the psychiatrist.

The other day I was reading another writers post on loss. Her words as a survivor touched my heart.  “I have to keep living and loving because they can’t. And it breaks my heart. And it mends it too”

 

 

 

friendship · Home

Laughing To The Grave

shelie2712 Comments

Too Soon

Can anything be funny or are some things off-limits?

In my opinion, there are times you need to be serious and try not to make light of a situation. I also believe in serious moments, humor happens. Here are a few examples.

After our twins were born. The hospital gave us an option to have a visitation, people could come and see Willy and Gabe before they took them. I wasn’t for sure I was up to it or not but my husband had purchased mementos he wanted to give to everyone. That night all my friends, his parents, and brothers came up to visit. I was sitting up in bed, most of my friends were sitting on the side with me. A nurse who was assigned to my room when they first diagnosed my Premature Labor came in to tell me she was sorry to hear about my loss. She did this out of  genuine compassion because she was not assigned to me during this time. The whole room was quiet as she expressed her sympathy, which wasn’t easy at all for her to do. The only noise you could hear was people catching their breath and sniffing. My friend Sarah pats my arm, gets up off my bed, walks over and pulls a wad of kleenex out of the box and blows her nose like an eighty year old man in the doctor’s office with a hanky!  My friend Allison was the first one to laugh than me and after that there we all were!

I also chose for the hospital to put the funeral on for Gabe and Willy. Which took us to a cemetery here in town, it’s a big cemetery. They have a designated area for the babies, on top of a hill. You have to walk over another hill before you get to the top of this one. My mom, me and my friend Allison were watching people as they were trying to carefully walk down this muddy hill. One lady wasn’t so lucky as the mud got the best of her. To the ground she went and rolled like a barrel all the way down…

My dad is the serious one in my parents marriage. He secretly digs my moms humor, which sometimes involves him. Not long ago we were all out to eat together. We got on the subject of an acquaintance of theres who had a spouse that recently passed. They had found another companion. I asked my mom if she thought it was weird that she was “back in the saddle”. My mom says. “Shelley not at all, I’m engaged to be married the day after your dads funeral…” I laughed hard as my dad sat there shaking his head, rolling his eyes, and not even giving the slightest smile.

We have talked many times about where I work. My residents are Visually Impaired. When one of them passes on its hard for some of are residents to get out and go to their funeral. We have memorials here in the building in honor of the resident who passes away. This allows residents to be able to talk about their “good times”. We did this recently for “Jack” when he died. We had quite a few who came down. They sat in the dining-room. We have couches that make a square all the way around the room, They started from right to left, “Emmet” was on the other side which would make her last. They let everyone know that they had to wait their turn. Each one of the residents were standing up telling the preacher about one thing they remember doing with “Jack” or something funny he said. All the other residents and staff quietly sat and listened meanwhile Emmett was raising her hand, standing halfway up to try to raise it further, she would get tired of holding that hand up and start in with the other, grunting, moaning, whispering pick me pick me…

I call these “hold Ons” constellations to shine down on us in times of darkness giving us hope and a future.

 

Children · Family

Foster-Care

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Recently On Life In My Tin Can I have written about conversations I have had with woman who were not ready for motherhood.

I believe some events in life set the sail for who we are and where were going.

I wrote this back in 2010 in a beginners writing class. I have been waiting to share it with you because I felt  you needed to see some of my backlog leading up to why I became a Foster-Parent. The teacher asked us to pick a paragraph out of the book we were reading “Dead End In Norvelt” and tie it in with our own life. I choose page 196 paragraph two.

 In such a fertile home devoted to beauty, love and understanding only one thing was missing-A child. My sister was a little too old for motherhood but in 1942 after the bombing of Pearl Harbor when Japanese Americans were being rounded up and sent to internment camps, a Japanese couple with a new baby arranged for their infant son to be adopted by my sister and her husband. This way the child would have a loving home and not have to be sent to prison camp and suffer the hardship and shame of that life. I remember that beautiful baby and the love my sister and her husband graced upon him. They had an angelic 6 months together until the federal government tracked that baby down and took him all because he was of Japanese origin An enemy of America in diapers.”

I can relate a bit to this part in the book because six or seven years ago I got my Foster Care license and fostered a little boy by the name of Jordan . He was around six weeks and weighed maybe a little over five pounds. I had only been a foster parent to one other little guy before Jordan his name was Thomas and I only had him for three or four weeks.

When I had gotten the call to see if I wanted an infant, I was so excited! Usually in foster care if you get a call for an infant seven times out of ten you will be able to adopt the child. So I made a few calls before picking him up. I called my mom for advice, did she think I was ready for this. I lined up a babysitter that I trusted for when I had to work. I wanted to be prepared.

When I went and got him at the State Office (DCFS) all by myself all he had with him was this plastic sack full of formula and diapers, and what looked like used stuff animals, and extra used clothing. I could not quit thinking of that plastic sack and how it spoke volumes of his abandonment and how very alone this child was. The things in that sack should have been his, picked out with him in mind new things to welcome him to a new place. He should not have to be checked out of a hospital into a state office, surrounded by strangers. In this moment I realized how sad I felt in a moment when I thought that I would only feel excitement. The fact that he didn’t realize any of this made the lump in my throat so much bigger.

At the time I did not have a child of my own, so this is the path I decided to take, because I so much wanted to be a mother. This is why, while in that state office I was so happy but so sad. Happy to have a baby to take care of but so sad about the cards he was dealt. I decided regardless of how scared I was to take him home, because of his medical history, addicted to crack and methadone, and born from an abruption because his mother decided she was going to do heroine one night which caused her to go into labor. I was just going to love him, spend my entire time holding, rocking, kissing and singing to him and I did throughout his entire detox, which would cause him to shiver and shake. I held him through two seizures. I took of work to stay and lay with him at the hospital. I just knew in my heart that love was the answer for him, and I gave him all of it for the six months that I spent with him.

Then the call came. There was a woman who wanted to step up and claim him. After the DNA testing was done she was his father’s mother. His grandmother had three of his brothers and she wanted him as well. I struggled with the fact that she decided to take him too. I felt that because she had three children already and because I didn’t have any; she should see that I would be the better choice for him. Why couldn’t she see that? Why was she so selfish? She had enough on her plate as it was with the three other boys, a full-time job, plus she was older and couldn’t keep up with his needs the way that I could. I know she felt that he should be there with her and with his brothers. They were his blood family.

Why is “flesh and blood” so important? Wouldn’t the whole process be much easier if they didn’t search for the “real” family? They could save a whole lot of time and money that way. Unfortunately children cannot just be distributed out to people just because they want a child so badly. I know morally that they shouldn’t be, but at the time those thoughts were a way that I could vent my frustration. If the world worked like that it would be better for people like me. In that fantasy, I found comfort.

The day they came to take him away, and drove away just like that, after all the heart that I put into this child, I cried in my mother’s arms like a baby. She just held me and let me cry, lost, powerless, helpless and empty, something you can’t feel unless you are there yourself. Children have a way no matter biological or not, if you let them in your heart you are never the same. The day he left I felt as if I gave him more than just a plastic sack. I gave him a stable place to live, a crib every night to sleep in, cloths that were fresh, food that was hot, and love to hopefully last that little guy a lifetime and with this said I too was also proud of what I gave him. Being a foster parent was bitter-sweet.

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.