a long time gone, but back to writing

I haven't written in almost 2 years and, my, how things have changed yet stayed the same. My big girl is almost 5 and a big sister. Our newest love is almost 11 months old (Friday--holy buckets!) and with their birthdays being a week and a half apart (oops!) I have lots of planning to do. Luckily, I have already gotten a head start on Big's and Little's, though Big has gotten much more attention. I have Little's cake planned and family will be there. I think I've even found her birthday present from hubs and me, but I might wait a bit to see. As for Big, yes she's gotten the bulk of the attention recently. I'm going to blame this on the fact that she 1) will remember what happened and 2) has been able to give input. The theme this year is a "Paper Doll, Tea Party Birthday." Doesn't that sound like a mouthful? You betcha. I've got it all planned out, though, and I'm ahead of the game in terms of getting things together. The invitations are a labor of love (and probably a huge dollop of stupidity) as they are paper doll dresses on the cover with a hole for her face and inside another paper doll outfit, a bathing suit. Yes, I printed and cut these out. By. Hand.

Luckily, my brain kicked in (probably slept for 2 hours that night) and I was able to connect with a fabulous friend who shared her die-cutting machine and made about 4 dozen balloons, tea pots and party hats to include on the invitations. I must say, I am grateful for that friend. Those were done in an hour, maybe whereas each dress that I printed, colored (therapeutic though it was) and cut out, took at least that long. Oh, and there are a dozen of each style of dress and head (I cut my sweet love's head out of a picture that I printed). I'm definitely one crafty momma, but I'm a bit insane, too. That I'll also blame on sleep deprivation as Little has *yet* to sleep through the night. Trust me, I am working on every angle of sleep training I can short of putting her in the basement to sleep (I'm kidding! No need to report us!). I think part of the problem (okay, a lot of the problem) is my fault and a little Hub's. He can't stand to hear her cry and she sleeps so much better when she's beside me that we've created this monster and now we have to sleep (or not sleep) with it. Maybe she'll give me a great birthday present (from her) and sleep through the night soon. Ah, glorious sleep! How I've missed you, dear friend.

Still, my little family makes me happier than I thought I could be and I cherish them every moment.

Keeping busy

It doesn't seem to matter how much time I think I have, I alwasy seem to be too busy to do everything I would like. I work, I craft, I clean...well, sort of. But that's the fun part of life, right? A messy house filled with smiles means my focus is on the important things.
I can't believe how much has changed in 3 years. And next month, the munchkin goes to a new school, a Montessori school. While I am excited for the opportunity for her, it is bittersweet. She will leave the place she has gone for 3 years. Though many of those connections have changed, most graduating and moving away, there are some that have strengthened and formed into amazing friendships (revolving around my munchkin). They love her and I love them for loving her.
So with all the crafting going in, it keeps me busy. Keeps me from focusing on how quickly time has passed and continues to rapidly race to the next minute, hour, day...year.
Looking back at all that has happened in the 7 years we've been here. First, it's hard to believe it's been 7 years, but in some ways I see the changes. Perhaps they show up in my wardrobe and (slightly) larger pants sizes (I'm okay with it. I have a kid); perhaps they show in the additional "pigment-free" hairs that pop from my head. But the last 3? They're on the face on my munchkin who grows bigger, stronger and smarter every day. And, while I wish I could find that stupid pause button, I know it will hide and I will have to remember in pictures, in memories, in the changes she makes. But it's good and I don't mind keeping busy when it makes my heart smile.

It's that time of year again...

the beginning of yet another academic year. And, as I listen to current and new students been advised, I wish I were one of them. The desire is so intense that I have been wearing earplugs so I don't have to listen or at least have something to block out part of the conversation I wish were mine.  I hope to take a course this semester, perhaps audit at least. Maybe that will quench this thirst I have. The desire to do more, to be more. 

Processing a tragedy

I have started this sentence over and over again, not sure where to start. I know that I feel like writing and getting this out. I don't know what I want others to read or know. More importantly, I don't want anyone else to be traumatized by what I have lived through.I think that's why I haven't talked about it much, at least until I met with professionals who have helped. Still, I feel I need to write even if no one reads it.


It's still very hard but the raw, open wound feeling is decreasing and I find I am able to breathe better with each passing day. Of course, therapy is multiple forms is helping, too. Two days ago the old adage, "Time heals all wounds" would have resulted in a pissed-off balk from me. I would have never believed I could move forward as much as I have, especially in this short a period of time. And while my heart and mind is healing, my spirit is also taking her turn. I need to write this so please, if you read this, be careful with your heart.


I flew home to Virginia last week to be with my family after my 29-year-old cousin, Phillip, lost his 9-month battle with leukemia. I had not cried as it was, and is, still very much surreal. I only really cried for my cousin, Michelle, his big sister, with whom I have always had a stronger bond. She and I are one week apart in age and were inseparable anytime we were together. My heart was breaking for her, my aunt and my uncle and those who were with him and love him. The painful parts: he was doing well then relapsed viciously and was gone far too quickly (as is anyone who hasn't lived their full life); Michelle had to read a passage at the memorial service and all I wanted to do was stand beside her to support her; his girlfriend, surrounded by supporters (and who is amazing), staying with him and being so supportive. I was able to make it through relatively well. I spent quality time with my great-Aunt Ginna (who is fabulous and for whom I am named). She told me things about my family I didn't know and I cannot wait to see her again. I left, got to the airport, got on the plane and that's when the single worst moment of my life occurred.

Mid-flight I turned to see a flight attendant in red, talking to a mom who stood up and then noticed she was holding a child, turned her upside-down and began hitting her on the back (the Heimlich maneuver for small children). It was then she began to exclaim "Oh my God!" From there it is a play-by-play of images and screams in my head. From the two calls over the intercom for a doctor, a nurse, "anyone with EMT training" to help, to the father (still in his Army uniform) screaming and crying for his baby, to the mother's screams, pleads and cries, to the quiet and back to the screaming. The worst was the image of the baby (just about 5 or 6 rows behind me) being carried off of the flight by first-responders then, later, a happenstance glance out the window and watching the mother run from the back of an ambulance and collapsing on the tarmac.


That baby, just 10 months old had grabbed a handful of peanuts off her mother's tray and choked to death.

I spent the night in a hotel, waiting for my next flight home. I slept, if you can call it that, with the television on, dreaming/reliving the events. I cried on the bus to the airport when I saw a plane taking off. I had 3 panic attacks on my own flight home: take off, landing, and (of course) when they gave out peanuts and other snacks. I collapsed on the floor of an airplane bathroom and sobbed--shoulder wrenching, heart-broken sobs--on that nasty floor. The parallels, albeit it small, were too hard for me. The baby's name, I believe, was Nylee (I don't know how she spelled it). My baby's name, Neala. She was 10 months old, that means she would be 1 in August. My baby was born in August.

I recognize now my passing through the beginning stages of grief, but I got stuck. I was scared/terrified/heart-broken. I bargained. I got angry (said "You took Phillip. You cannot have her.") and I felt guilty because I didn't help. I have CPR certification through my job but knew others were far more qualified than I and there were: a med student and 3 nurses. Still the screams and images have haunted me nearly every moment since. Granted it's only been a week. I haven't been able to fully recover. In some ways I don't want to; in others I must so that I can continue to function. I will admit I am proud of myself for recognizing how severely I have been affected and for asking for help so quickly. I am proud of myself for recognizing there are things outside of my control, for making myself work and not perseverate more than the flashbacks. I am proud of myself for talking to people I trust. I am proud of myself for writing this.


There are parts of my response that I also know are knee-jerk reactions. I wasn't able to be alone. I wasn't able to be in quiet situations. And the combination of the two? Terrifying. I know that I will not fly again without EMT/First responder training because I can never let myself feel that helpless again. Ever. I know that the more I talk about what happened, the more I gain power on my own mind and the more I allow myself to heal. I do not expect to get better immediately (which I normally would have, in the past). But I recognize my strength, as well, and that has helped. I will do more. I must. It is who I am. For now, I continue to process...



Hug your babies. Love them. Make sure they know how special they are.

Blessings and healing

All kinds of catching up to do

This post will have to be an introduction to the many I still have coming out of my head. So let's see...In February I was crabby (gee, there's s shocker!). That comes and goes the like rising and falling of the tides. Sometimes I can handle the frustrating circumstances in which I find myself; other times, I think I put myself into those situations subconsciously because I either want to pout or need a good swift kick in the butt. Some parts of my world had become stagnant (and still are in some places). I think that's just par for the course. I've learned to deal, learned to manage and am learning to let go. Don't know why that last one is the hardest one to get, but surprise! It's now been a year since the GGs left us. I just found two unpublished posts about them. I'll still need to finish writing them and then proceed to the point of closure. Still not there in some ways. I do find it a bit ironic, that I return to those posts the week of my grandmother's estate sale. Tuesday I was a ball of tears in my office as I looked at the website that held her items, instantly linking memories to each picture (except for my mom's dollhouse we never knew was there), and being willing to give every last piece of her furniture away in exchange for another hug or word or smile. Heck, I'd even take another back-handed compliment or insult. Luckily, I saved a voicemail she left me on New Year's (in 2009, I think) that says, "Hi, it's Grandmother. I just wanted you to know I love you." I wonder if there's a way I can download it and save it forever. I'll have to ask Verizon. And, while I know it's set up to ask every 28 days or so, it always seems to pop up on a day where I really needed to hear her voice. Hmmm, cosmic perhaps? (okay, taking a break...crying again)
GG posts aside (or forthcoming), things at work were a bit tumultuous. Most of it was grant-related so I covered that on my "professional" blog. In short, we should have known in February what the outcome of our submission was. Instead, we were told we would find out in April...for a grant that ends in May. Many people chose the "glass-half-full" viewpoint while I just tried to keep my lunch down, or fight back a panic attack, anytime anyone discussed the delayed review. Then, in April, we were told our score was pretty bad and that we would have to rewrite. (Damn, that stinks.) But wait, it got worse...we had to have it done by June 1.That basically left a month to go through the reviewers responses, see what we can change and (for nearly every team) rewrite our proposals. The good news was that our bridging funds were/are being viewed positively in that there's a chance we'll be okay. (I'm still not completely certain since these were also the "glass-half-full" people)
In the midst of all of that, I attended a symposium in Greece (yet another post to write--just the fun stuff, not the work-stuff, which is already on the prof blog) and got to present not one, not two, but three different presentations. Each of which was invited to be published in a proceedings. I will probably submit one, but that may or may not happen due to potential drama associated with it...still waiting to find out.
But our grant is in, I may write a paper, and I have to prepare another talk and poster. In the mean time, the hubs is writing his dissertation....still...and hoping to finish this summer. The munchkin, well, she's just amazing. Smart. Funny. Caring. Polite. Golly, I love her!

I'm still paying it forward: I worked with my neighbor, Allison, to make bunnies to help fund her trip to Europe and also donated half of every sale. I think we raised about $200 (and if not I'm giving her at least that much). The hair is still long, but will be cut and donated. Oh, yes, it will.
My nephew arrived and brought with him a whole host of uncertainties, but he is now doing well. My cousin, Phil, is not. I was told yesterday he has been given 30 days. Days. I don't know what I would do if someone said I had a month to live. I'd probably make a bucket list like I've been told he is doing. I'll probably do something in his honor, as well. I'm still pondering that.
So prepare for a new flourish in writing (I hope). Lots going on and lots to say. Until then, blessings to you!

Pay-it-forward birthday

As I wrote, yesterday was my 34th birthday. And, somehow the predictions from the year in an earlier post are coming true, though not intentionally on my part. I am becoming more introspective. I also hope that I am ramping up my generosity and general goodwill towards man (even after the Christmas season).

I decided this year was going to be a pay-it-forward birthday.
First:
All of my bday money will be donated to the pay-it-forward goal of a wonderful Mama. I started reading her blog some time last year, after she was featured on an AOL something-or-other and was instantly hooked. I now read her blog daily and she doesn't even write a new post every day. She is an inspiring woman, wife, mother, photographer and all around human being. In addition, my wonderful brother (yes, it's written down now. can't take it back) and his beautiful wife will be having a little one with "Designer Genes" in March. Jackson will be amazing. I have no doubt. And because, he and Nella will have this commonality, I get an even warmer and fuzzier feeling when I know that my money, money I have no need for, will provide them opportunities to do whatever they want in life. Yay for NDSS.
Second:
The only fun thing I did for myself was schedule a hairdo. It's gotten really long and I thought, "What better thing to do on my birthday than donate it to the Locks of Love." I was one inch too short. Ugh, bummer. I even looked for others and found one that would have given me 2 inches to spare...no permanent die. For real? So, alas, that donation will wait for another day, but it will happen and I will link it to this birthday.
Third:
I did visit the ultra nice, not-so-inexpensive yarn shop. I bought some really pretty yarns. I plan to give it ALL away once it has reached it finished product. Why? Why not?

I hope I can keep doing this all year, this year of my internal personal development. It feels good and I like feeling good. I've also thought about starting some sort of business with screen printing or making items that say "Designer Genes." Would it be fun to have a special munchkin, child, adolescent who could flaunt what makes them special? I would love to do this and then give proceeds to NDSS. Then I could partner with various therapies and have shirts that say things like, "Music Therapists love Designer Genes." :)
It's still a work in progress, but the ball is a-rolling...Watch out world!

...add a dash of new adventures

...and my year is off! During my national conference in December, I was inspired by many of the music therapists I have known for several years. They're amazing men and women who are pushing the boundaries and sharing their knowledge with the world. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring, as well. Since I spend so much of my time in the world of research, I decided to see if there was a niche out there for me. *Poof* I have created a new website that will hopefully allow me to share my experiences and (limited) expertise with those who can benefit. And so "Notable Musique" is born. We'll see how long it lasts, but I have had so many ideas going through my mind for posts that I've got at least a few months worth of writing (and lots of drafts saved). This will still be my own, personal site for expression but I think it will be great to have another, more professional outlet. It will take care of some of that "Clutter" I've had building up.

My favorite Christmas present

This year was one of the best Christmases I've ever experience. My nephew, Beau (Bo-bo) arrived on the 23rd and Mom and I toasted his birth day with a shot of Sake (the only liquor I could find at 1:30 a.m.). We got to spend time with all of the parents/grandparents and relax without driving so many hours.

While that was wonderful, I got a present I couldn't have even fathomed to request, my grandmother's writing.
Back story: 
I never knew my Dad's mother, for whom I'm named. She died before my parents were married and not until last year did I even know what she looked like. I've never been able to find out too much information about her from anyone. I know she was an artist. They had her paintings hanging up in Grandpa's house and Dad pointed them out to me from time to time. She loved classical music: Grandpa showed me her collection of records, Rachmaninof, Tchaikovsky, Bach in a box in the shed too damaged by the weather to be salvaged. I know she lost a daughter, Susan, either at birth or shortly thereafter who would have been between my dad and uncle in age. I found that out from my "Grandma Jo" who really isn't my grandmother, our family just adopted her as such and that's the only title she's had.
I don't know her birthday, I don't know when or how she died. My information about her ended there...until this Christmas.

When I got to my dad's house for our Christmas dinner, I found a book and a card for me. Inside was a note from my cousin, Jasmine. It read:

Dear Cousin,

I hope you enjoy this book of our grandmother's poetry! 

Please have Uncle Bob explain.

Much love, 

Jasmine

I can't even begin to count how many times I've read this note. The first sentence echoing in my mind and my heart, "our grandmother's poetry." Wow. She wrote poetry. Not only that, but the book that went with the card contains scanned copies of her writing. I now know what her handwriting looks like. She had good penmanship.

Turns out, the gentleman that bought my grandfather's house found a box under the house on Mother's Day this year and brought it over to my uncle's house. Jasmine found it and, realizing the importance it would have to the rest of us, started scanning pages. There are 28 journals, approximately 1200 pages of her writing. Some of it is original poetry; some are poems she enjoyed. There are a few dated 1942 and addressed to "a child in Europe." Either way, it's a piece of her I would have never, ever had access to or even known existed without my fabulous cousin. 

It was equally as surprising to my dad, who I don't think knew of the journals' existence. Jas included one special poem in his collection, a poem my grandmother most likely wrote about him. It is about giving him a bath and makes it sound like he was a toddler when she wrote it. Watching his face as we talked about this amazing gift, I could see his sweet heart swell. Face sullen, looking down, he was more than humble; he was grateful. So Jas, if you read this, please know you gave me and my dad a gift that was more than priceless. You introduced me to another part of our grandmother and you gave my dad back his mom. Even if it's only her words, it's her words so many years after she left. 

That, my friends, was my favorite Christmas present and one I'll always treasure.

2011 prediction

This is what I read tonight about my upcoming year. I'm looking forward to the introspection and stability, especially the financial part:

Year 2011 Overview

'Change' is your middle name at this point, Capricorn. You've been through more personal transformation in the past two years than perhaps in your entire life. The upside is that you're getting used to the intensity of it all. It helps that you're realizing the futility in holding on to people and possessions that only stunt your growth. So many layers continue to be shed on a daily basis but this also gives way to unquestionable personal power. Pluto in Capricorn will carry on for another 14 years; so if this is just the tip of the iceberg, imagine who you will be on the other side of your metamorphosis.

This year the focus shifts from a lifestyle focused on gadgets, information and social networking to introspection, home and family. You are about to encounter your most uncensored raw self on levels as of yet unprecedented. Ready yourself, Goat, because this spring an explosion of fiery planets in Aries sweeps the very base of your horoscope getting you back in touch with some of your most primal instincts. Competition, aggression and the need for plenty of physical outlets ensue.

Some long-standing money issues are finally coming to a finish as the planet of illusion and delusion gets ready to move on to your communication sector. You've learned to use your discrimination in choosing where to invest and where to spend. For the next 14 years, instead of worrying about money leakages you'll be working on mindfulness to avoid spacing out. In any case, your way with words is apt to become poetic and inspired, which can only make the world appear infinitely more beautiful.

Cluttered

It has been 3 weeks since the last episode and the level of relief I've experience is indescribable.

Perhaps because (or in spite of) this upheaval, I've noticed a significant shift in my own goal areas. I've been cluttered physically and mentally. I have been lacking the motivation to actually go above and/or beyond what is asked of me. The result? A cluttered life and mind. My desk at work is a prime example: piles of papers here; connected cords there; stacks of articles to read here; manuscript to work on there; and a huge list of future projects. It's all a mess. In addition, I was inspired during my music therapy conference to really do more. I met up with amazing women who are doing amazing things and are totally fulfilled in their lives and jobs. So I've decided to take that step, clean up everything, get it organized and Un-clutter. My bedroom is first, followed by my desk (but probably not a complete overhaul until next week) and then my website (which also means my mind). I've decided to take a step in a different direction and try to help others. My biggest fear is that I'll do something horrendously wrong, but my hope is that, if/when I do, someone will point it out to me and I'll learn something significant from it. I'm giving that a deadline of January as I start putting the pieces together. For now, the papers on my desk have moved from stacks to semi-organized piles, which will then be placed into their appropriate folders and containers from which they can be retrieved when needed or recycled.

Thursday marked one week without an episode (or at least one we noticed). The GrandDs came to visit and spent lots of quality time with the munchkin, aside from the stomach bug that ran through our home every 4 days. We had a wonderful time relaxing and laughing and playing. It. Was. Wonderful.
So I am thankful for this:
And so much more!

and we danced...

Much of the weekend was a girls' weekend with Matt traveling to Chicago to compete with EIBB. Friday night we chilled, literally, put our jammies on and just relaxed. I say our jammies because my kiddo totally did it on her own...and we're talking footed jammies. She was quiet for a while in that "what's my kid up to" kind of way, but when she came running into my room, opposite arm and leg in sleeve and footed long leg. I smiled. It was a great feeling. Then I watched her try to get the other foot in the shorter, zipper side. She gave it a go, then stated that she needed to do it in her room and when she returned, she had succeeded once again. I only provided support to get the last arm in place, but she totally did it on her own...all the way to the last zzzzzzip! She was proud of herself and she should be!
Saturday we stayed in our jammies much longer than one should if they plan on leaving their homes that day. Since we had no plans, we jammed out. And mid-morning, we literally, jammed out. She has a new LeapTop that she got with her birthday gift card from Opa and Jojo. It has a few songs pre-programmed (until her slacker of a mother actually downloaded the software to personalize it for her) and she loves to listen to the music. In fact, that's one of the only buttons she would push before. So she started playing with it and encouraged me to dance with her. Keep in mind, the songs are only about 30-45 seconds in length and include the standard nursery-rhyme types. Nonetheless, we went for it. We danced all out, jumping and bouncing and clapping after each song. I swear I had flashbacks to being 8 and just moving every part of my body to the music all while jumping as high as I could. Someone walking up to my door would have probably thought I was being attacked by bees, but I didn't care. Something about it was freeing and I felt like a lot of the stress, the anxiety, the frustration of the not-so-past few weeks flew out of my body and fell on the floor for me to land on (and perhaps stomp to oblivion) as I came down from each bounce. It was truly cathartic for me and we had fun. Fun--something I don't know that I've experienced that intensely in a while. Must. Repeat. Again!
The rest of the weekend, we hung out with amazing friends, almost lost Bobby at Outback (which has inspired me to try to write a story about the left-behind toys--unless there's already one out there), and welcomed Daddy home on Saturday. Sunday, we relished in the extra hour..er...I did especially well because some Daddy-daughter time was had while I got to sleep a little extra. Then we played and created a Gingerbread massacre in the driveway a la sidewalk chalk. I'm getting ready for the holidays (at least in my head). I'm also crafting Christmas presents. We'll see how many I actually get completed, but it's a nice goal to set for myself.

I'm channeling...

I'm trying to channel my energy to things that are more productive. Of course, I started this months ago, but it's something that's easy to do and it makes me happy, so why not?!
Last year, I went to a meeting for a group called The Preemie Project. Okay, it wasn't really a meeting, but they got together and sewed for the entire weekend. I hadn't had a break in, oh, forever, so I took advantage. We made over 200 blankets and I don't even remember how many sleep sacks, but I think we got close to running out of material. I learned how to do more with my sewing machine and got to spend time with some fabulous women. This year, a call went out for pumpkins. Hats, booties and other fall-flavored items for the mini-munchkins in the NICU. Being, well, me I went nuts. First, I thought I'd try to cross-stitch a bunch of onesies with pumpkins on them and cute phrases. Three hours/nights into the project I realized the chances of me getting more than 2 done before Oct 22 were pretty slim so I started on other pumpkin-themed ideas. I found a pattern for hats and I was off. Once I'd made 18, I tried to find the best way to make booties. That was going to be a bit more of a challenge for me because I didn't want to have to sew them. I wanted to be able to do them quickly. I finally found a pattern---here---and set to work. In total I made 23 hats and 20 pairs of booties; 18 sets to donate, 1 set for a new baby, three pairs of booties for friends. Of course, I failed to take pictures of them all, but I did get a few. Hopefully, I'd get photos of the little ones with their adornments, as well. In the mean time, it takes my mind off of the other things in life that keep me from smiling.

and the world turned upside-down

My excitement last week seemed boundless, but almost as quickly as it came, it left again. Dad and Jo came to visit; we were having a great time. Saturday at dinner, amid pizza and football, the munchkin began screaming. I picked her up and comforted her and she quickly calmed down. It didn't make much sense to me but I figured maybe she bit her tongue, cheek or kicked the table and hurt her toes, but she pointed to the right side of her head. Still, because it ended quickly, I didn't think too much of it. Sunday morning we had brunch with the grandparents before they left and came home for a nice, relaxing day. It was truly wonderful until about 4:30 when, once again, the pain reappeared. This time, she was much more distressed and didn't want me to put her down. I didn't want to reinforce a negative behavior, and was trying to fix dinner, so I put her down, but she wobbled and I quickly picked her up again. Within the next 2 hours, she had as many episodes so we went to the ER. Two hours later, we were seen and given the diagnosis of "Headache" because everything else checked out as normal and home we went. Monday evening she had another one while outside playing, but again was fine relatively quickly and so I waited. When we hit yet another on Tuesday morning, at daycare, my patience was done. I called Peds to get her an appointment ASAP. The docs we saw were baffled as to why this was happening, because neurologically everything checked out, and a CT was scheduled for Friday. Wednesday after a stress-filled day at work, we came home as though nothing was wrong and I was fixing dinner when my littlest love, playing and singing with her babies, paused to sweetly call "Mommy" and, when I answered, said, "My head hurts. I wanna go doctor." Insert Mommy freak-out here

So I called 2bit for advice. She, being brilliant, said I should do what was requested. When I got off the phone and said we were going, munchkin said, "No stay here. Eat supper. Go later" so I restarted my heart and finished dinner. She again made the request during dinner so I tried to distract her and took her outside where she saw her favorite boyfriend. We played for about half and hour, came inside, took a bath and waited for her daddy to come home from work. I let her play some more and sat down to email the pediatrician. I was in the middle of describing my pre-dinner heart attack when she stopped mid-dog-toy-throw and screamed and cried. It's the worst sound I could ever imagine and can't even begin to describe, nor do I really want to (having told this story well over a dozen times to various doctors, nurses, med students, residents, electrophysiologists, etc). I ran over to begin assessing because they recommended trying to look for any shaking (seizure-ish) and asking questions to evaluate cognition. Matt came in near the end and I had her walk to him. Everything seemed normal until Matt put her down after she was comforted and she said, "Hi Daddy" and hugged him like she'd just seen him. Off to the ER we went again. CT completed while we were there was clear--exhale due to really scary stuff ruled out (ie, tumors, CSF leakage or blockage).

Thursday was a good day=No episodes. Friday was looking positive. We moved slowly on our way to the follow-up appt in Peds. Again, I told the story to yet another flippin' resident despite the fact that the attending had met me on Tuesday and I scheduled my appointment with HER. That part was annoying, damn it. The good part of the resident was that she scheduled an EEG that same morning and an MRI. After the torture that is glue and an air compressor putting electrodes on a 2-year-olds head (especially one who hates having things stuck on her against her will and hates anything that blows air exponentially more), bribery of chocolate anything she wanted, we were done for the morning. She had lunch with my coworkers and we went home to recovery from the morning. That night we went to a baby shower for a very dear friend. It was a lovely time until we got ready to leave and she had one right in front of the 3-year-old daughter of a friend. Naturally, her mom says, "What did you do?" because it always sounds as though someone's been hit, pushed, scratched, etc. I quickly assured her, her child was innocent, while mine screamed that she wanted to go to the doctor. We were this close to having two days in a row...ugh.

Saturday was a very lazy day, mostly because Matt and I were exhausted from the week. I barely changed out of my jammies. I wanted to cuddle my kiddo and have a perfect day of football, friends and smiles. We had a great morning and afternoon, but at 6 she screamed. This one was, by far, the worst in intensity and length. Still, once she was done, she was fine and again, there were friends around to witness it. Which, while scary as hell for them, validates my fears. Again, over quickly, but sucky in the moment. Sunday, I was optimistic. She slept until 7. At 7:15, I gave up---episode. With it being that early in the morning, I just wait for the other shoe to drop and to count how many more we have that day. Luckily, it was the only one.

That brings me to today. We were able to move the MRI up from Nov 3 to this Friday (I love the people who are willing to pull strings to help me). The EEG results will be ready between Wed and Fri.

As if that's not enough, there's more. Seriously. There's more.

The hubby's had back problems since he was 13. It was aggravated last January and he's been to PT, a doctor, chiropractor, even an ER trip that was useless. Today he went back to the doc, following the completion of 6 weeks of PT and a bottle of Aleve. Today. TODAY, they do an x-ray. Today. Did I mention this has been going on since January? Today. Well, looking at the x-ray TODAY, it appears some of his vertebrae have fused together, there's arthritis, scoliosis, bone spurs hitting the muscle or nerve and aggravating the muscle or nerve. AND (yes, there's an AND) his tailbone has no space between it and the last lumbar vertebrae; it's compressed. The doctor's recommendation, a neuro-surgeon and possible surgery. Did I mention they did an x-ray TODAY? Today. What the deuce?!

So yeah, guess who else will be getting an MRI? Not me. I'll be praying the grant we submitted goes through so that we'll have health insurance and some money to pay all these freakin' bills we'll be getting in the very near future. And breathing, breathing deeply, because if I get sick, that would just complete the holy crap trifecta.

I did it

I bit the bullet, put my backside in gear and did it.
I finally applied for a teaching job...at a university. Am I freaking out? You bet your sweet bippy I am, but I'm also cautiously optimistic and excited. I want to see what, if anything, will happen and, if there's feedback coming, what it is and what it means and how I can get better. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with them saying "no" because even if they do, I'm not going to be kicking myself for not trying, for not applying and for not seeing what could be.
The planner inside is the one doing the backflips and saying, "Are you really sure you want to do this? Too late now. You're in for it, girl" and the part of me that so wants to be like Matt, so laid back and relaxed and go-with-the-flow is telling her to shut up and sit down. I like it.
The past few weeks have been more than stressful (and that's an understatement). Any and every little thing could send me into a mental rage, or sad, or lonely. This actually makes me feel like I've taken back the reigns and I'm trying to make not just everyone else happy but ME happy. I've kind of forgotten what that's like, which makes me disappointed in myself. The realization, however, that I've taken back my "power" (as Mom puts it) gives me this inner confidence that I had forgotten was there. I've moved complacency out of the way and I'm back to me (or at least I hope I am) and maybe even a better me. And today? I'm proud of myself.
So I'm going to sit here and pat myself on the back. I know I don't do it enough.

Getting ready to head out

Thursday, the munchkin and I are heading to Baltimore, by way of the Atlanta airport. I'm looking forward to getting away. I haven't seen Gma-hoof in 16 months and know that she is so excited to see "her baby" (not me, the munchkin). Mom and Laura are also coming, too, so the house will be loaded with women who are all strong-minded and range in age from 92 1/2 to 20 months. Good times.
Of course, now Grandma is convinced she is dying, which she is. Technically, we all are. But she believes hers must be imminent because I'm coming to visit and Laura's coming to visit; even Step-daddy is stopping by this week (unannounced). That may cause her to pull out her will. I just hope the visit is enjoyable for her. I don't think she remembers how much energy a munchkin requires but with the three of us to chase her around, she should be fine to just laugh and point.
Most of all, I'm looking forward to getting another photo of the 4 generations of women. Granted, I'll look like the odd (wo)man out because I'll be the only brunette, but I'll take it. I know they're mine.

Lovely day

Ahhh, Happy Easter! What a beautiful day. It started at 6:30, per usual, but felt earlier because of the post midnight bedtime. We hit mass right before 8:30 and ended up in the standing room only area. The golden part was that we were on top of the vent which caused the munchkin's dress to poof out in true princess fashion. That and a bag of Cheez-its made for a lovely service. We came home and got one of our neighbors to get a family picture, complete with Syd-dog bunny ears (borrowed from the munchkin).We had 2 cameras going to get a few good shots.

Post-church brunch was a cooking invention of my own device. It turned out well, but I immediately started figuring out ways to make it even better "next time." After that, munchkin took a nap and we started cleaning up the tornado-like livingroom strewn with toys, then set out our eggs for her solo hunt post-nap. She got really good at finding them and, when she realized they contained treats, the hunt was on. The rewards were equally enjoyable.
I hope your holiday was as wonderful as ours. Happy Easter!

Shaken

I've been dealing with a lot of different things this week. We started the project that brought so much frustration. I don't foresee a lot of progress but I will do what I can to help it progress. Matt is applying for jobs and hoping things go well. His buddy, Casey, is apparently on a few short lists at some other schools so that hopefully means the two won't be in competition with each other. Those things have been weighing heavily on my mind, but the biggest thing this week has nothing to do with me. A friend, who was more of an acquaintance until we started bonding via the world of facebook, has been in the hospital with her youngest little one. At 6 weeks old, he has been an inpatient for the last week. He's been having episodes of apnea since the day he was born and it reached a point that caused his docs to send him to my place. The strange part for me is that even though he's not my child and despite his mother's unrelenting faith, on Tuesday I felt my faith being shaken. I felt myself beginning to doubt everything I've always believed and wondering whether God was really there and listening. Afterall, this child is perfect, unblemished. And yet, here he is in a hospital bed, baffling the doctors as they open every door to find the answer. I don't know how to describe the feeling that came over me as I held my own daughter and remembered her time in the NICU. Then, my faith was strong and I was not. This time, I feel like my faith was shaken. But I looked at this mother, this woman who hasn't left her child's side, who has various verses from the Bible written on the board in her son's room to give her strength, hope, support. She inspires me and yet I feel ashamed that my own faith was challenged when she is facing such challenges. I pray every day (nearly constantly for her child) and have even had a night full of dreams where all I did was pray. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned all around this child, not only by the doctors, but by me. Perhaps I need to have her faith or ask for that strength or some semblance of it. All I know is I was astounded as the thoughts passed through my head and yet, I wondered how much of that is from deep within me and how much was just a fleeting insecurity. In the last year, I went through all those "religious" challenges between pretty much everything and my dad. I believed nothing could shake me after that. Clearly, I was wrong.

The rest of this week was lovely. After deciding I would write more, I went to work refreshed and revived. Not sure why since I didn't sleep late or go to bed early, but hey, I'll take it in whatever form it comes. I was able to get all of my current tasks completed including some really hefty test creation for one of my awesome students. I got to meet with other PIs on our research team (thanks Dr G for taking me) and see some of the new directions are studies may be going. Yesterday, I created the sound files and got them all finished, combined and sent off. I've found some of these new studies (with cortical responses) to be fascinating. I'm still pondering the PhD...pondering. And each time I go through these meetings, I become inspired to ask more questions and find the answers. I hope our next grant application gets approved so we can actually answer them. Now I think I need to create about 2 or 3 IRB applications. IRB=bane of my existence.

Yesterday, I was doing my normal lunch break, panning through various news sources and found a story about a blogging mom. I read the article and was just intrigued. This woman eloquently shares her story about having a baby with Down Syndrome and how she instantly knew it the second she saw her. I looked through her blog. She named her Nella. Of course, my first thought is "how does she pronounce it?" because I think the munchkin's name has caught on. Anyway, I decided to look through some past blogs and I found her birth story. I read it and my heart just opened. It poured out the sorrow, the support, the joy, the grief as though it had been my own experience. I know that I cannot even begin to imagine what that would be like, that instant when you see this precious little one you've been waiting for and realizing that she's perfect, but in a different way. To have to grieve the loss of the baby you thought you'd have for the one you're holding in your arms. Just...wow. The name of her blog is called Enjoying the Small Things a name she had before this experience. I've added her to my list of blogs to follow and look forward to reading her future posts.

Today was good. Work was slow. I had the chance to teach one of my new students a few things, some for the second (or third) time but it helps me think. Dinner tonight was soooo good. Munchkin and I went to Targ`et after work as I am on the hunt for an Easter Bonnet. Thus far, I have had no luck finding one for someone over 6 months but younger than 3 years. Ugh. Still, I look even though I know I will probably have to make one for her. Ooh, maybe I could check Etsy again...
Anyway, back to dinner. She and I got home at almost 6 o'clock so I plied her with honey-nut chex while I prepped the food for dinner. By the time Matt got home, I had put the butter in the pan and just turned it on. It hadn't even melted yet (yesssss). So he decided to take us out to dinner at a new restaurant. It's like Kobe (from home) and good. Oh, so good. We ordered teppanyaki scallops (me), orange roughy (Matt) and hibachi shrimp (munchkin). First, we got soup. I tried the clear, with happy memories of mushrooms and scallions floating in broth, and Matt ordered Miso. At least this way we would know which was better. We both shared with munchkin and she emphatically kept asking for "More, More." She liked mine until she tried Matt's Miso soup, then I was chopped liver. I have to admit, that stuff was oh-so delicious. My kid is definitely developing quite the pallet. Then we had salads. Some delicious mix between the ginger salad dressing and shrimp sauce topped the standard lettuce carrots and slice of cucumber and tomato. That really grabbed her attention and she ate a half piece of lettuce preferring the carrots and cucumber. Then our dinner arrived. I was nearly full, but it looked amazing. Let me say, the munchkin serving is enough for an adult, but she hit it hard. First, a giant scoop of rice, then veggies. She worked her way through zucchini, onions, carrots, broccoli and then she found the shrimp and never looked back. I think, given the chance, she would have eaten all of it (probably a 1/2 pound) and wouldn't think of touching the pieces I cut up for her. No, no. She had to have the whole piece to bite and tear herself. I think she ate at least 7 or 8 pieces. This kid is a diamond in the rough. She does not eat fish sticks. She does not eat breaded shrimp. Give her broiled, sauteed, even grilled and it's off the plate and into her mouth in nanoseconds. Give it to her breaded and fried and you'd think I was offering castor oil. No, thank you. So she ate half of the plate. Okay, Matt stole a few pieces but not many. You should have seen the look she gave him. Then they brought dessert what they called a Japanese yogurt. It tasted like a mix of melted lime sherbet, orange sherbet and something else. It was good. All 3 of us got one. Matt took a sip, but because he was stuffed passed on the rest. Neala had a straw in hers and, in true comic fashion, sucked the whole thing down in no time flat. Her eyes lit up when she saw she had another. This time, we let her try to drink it from the glass (it's a funky shot glass I think). This was almost as good but the temptation of the straw may have been too much and she got distracted. One the straw was broken, the drink was gone, complete with head tilted as far back as it can go, glass clinched in her teeth. So yes, we'll be going back again. It may not be soon since we're getting better about cooking "real" dinners every night, but this was a nice, welcome and delicious break. They even changed the TV to the sweet 16 for us. Now that's a classy place.

To return to writing

I have scrolled through some of my past entries and was surprised that the words I was reading were mine, in a positive way. Although I noticed a trend in some of my most recent posts...I sure like to whine a lot. I think most of it is just trying to get things off my chest and writing them down gets it out of my head and onto a screen where I can read it and finally begin to solve the problem. The other reason is also pretty realistic. I don't think anyone's reading this (besides me), so that makes it really easy and I don't feel like a Debbie Downer.
Having realized that negativity can beget negativity, I'm going to try to be more positive. Call it a delayed New Year's Resolution, if you will. Either way, I want to send out more positive vibes into the world and hope that they return to me.
Work has been my biggest source of stress. I think I'm letting it so that stops now. If I'm frustrated, I need to address the situation and make it better. If I can't, I need to find the one who can. I work hard but there are times I could work harder.
Family is good. Matt's working on his paper and getting closer to finishing by the day. He's applying for real jobs and I am so excited for him. I don't even care where he ends up, I just want him to find a job that makes him happy and fulfilled. I can make do and find something wonderful. You never know, I could end up starting a program for MT wherever he goes. Neala is getting bigger and doing so many amazing things. When she says "I love you" (which comes out as "Wuv U") my heart melts. She's amazing and I can't believe she's mine. I've reached that point where I want another munchkin. I know that I won't get the same type of time with Neala but I think she'd be an excellent big sister and I never want her to be alone. I also realize that our family isn't quite there yet, but the baby-admiration is there. I think it always will be regardless of how big our family is.
My favorite person to discuss is Gma-Hoof. At 92 1/2 she's still mentally strong, but her body is not cooperating with her mental strength. 2bit took her to the doctor yesterday and called me, on the edge of tears. Her kidneys are shutting down. So we immediately scheduled a visit for Neala and me to see her, hopefully before the end. When I talked to 2-ey tonight, she said it might be hard for me because Gma is having spells of nausea during the day. Her kidney function was actually worse than someone who has kidney failure. In short, it's bad. I just hope she can hold out for 3 weeks until we can get there so she can "see her baby."
So I'm baaaaack. I'm going to write more, get my thoughts out and enjoy life.