My Sweet Boy

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Budding Artist

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Taking a Stand

Family has always been very important to me.  I have always prided myself on making the people around me feel loved and cared for.  I do not have a lot of money or material possessions, but I have a heart full of love, and to me, that means more then anything money can buy.  Once I got married, I looked forward to embracing a new set of people to my family.  Yet, it is very hard when there is a few people who seem hell bent on making sure I do not feel welcome in the family, and want nothing more then to feel they can tell me what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and retaliate when they do not get their way.  I'm not here to name names or put anyone on blast.  However, it has gotten to the point where I have just had enough.  I was the bigger person, extending a hand of friendship for the sake of the family, for the children, and yet all I have gotten in return is grief.  My son is a wonderful child with a beautiful and budding personality and sense of humor.  He is happy, healthy, and is so loved.  Again, I may not be able to afford him expensive toys, clothes, birthday parties, and the like, but to him that doesn't matter.  All he wants is the love of his parents and his family and he has that in abundance.  I refuse to feel sub par because others have more means then I do, or are able to do more for their child then I can do for mine.  But honestly, isn't that just teaching them that life is about money and material possessions, and that if you don't have that, your not worth anything?  As much as I hate it, I am very good at putting on a friendly face and demeanor around people that I do not favor, and I have tried so hard to find a place of forgiveness for past transgressions because the Lord wants us to forgive those who have trespassed against us.  However, just because I forgive, doesn't mean I ever forget, and it doesn't mean I need to associate myself with those who make me feel as though I am unworthy of their time.

The last straw is being called out as not being a good parent.  This truly cut me to the core.  My parenting skills, who I am as a mother, all stems from the greatest example of motherhood I have ever seen, and that was my own beautiful mother.  Like me, she did not have a lot in terms of possessions and money, but she has love and that was all I needed from her.  I parent my child the way she parented me, and I know I am doing right when I see how smart my son  is, how much he has learned and knows in just his three short years of life, and my husband steps in as a father should.  We are responsible parents, caring for his well-being, and I dare anyone to tell me my child is not taken care of.  I don't really know why certain people think we are not as good as parents as we could be.  I could call out some behavior that I have seen that I believe is not conducive to a good parenting relationship and style, but I would never stoop to that level.

As a child, I was bullied almost everyday throughout elementary and junior high school, before times such as these were bullying is now not tolerated and it is dealt with.  Being a child with a disability is not easy, but when I came home, my mom made sure I never felt different, that I was treated normally, and home was my safe place.  Now, as an adult, I feel as though I am being bullied by someone who has come into my safe place, and is attacking me emotionally.  However, I refuse to stand for this any longer.  In order to not feel bullied and to not get my feelings hurt, I am removing myself, and my family, from the situation.  We are real people with real feelings and we will not get them trampled on any longer.  This is not behavior our son needs to see or be apart of, because soon I fear that negativity is going to be placed on my child.

If I have learned one thing from this year, and the loss we have dealt with, it is that life is just too damn short. Too short to be dealing with drama and heartache.  I need happiness and positivity in my life, or I sink back into a place of sadness and grief that I try everyday to overcome.  If you love me and my family, you are here to support us, then your welcome into our lives and into our home.  If  not, then we cannot have you in our lives anymore.

Happy 3rd Birthday John!

While it isn't quite midnight yet here in Arizona, tomorrow, October 23rd, is John's 3rd birthday.  Today was his last day to be two, and I have to admit I felt a little sad about that.  He is growing so fast, and it seems as though time has just flown by.  I already feel as though I am forgetting little things he did as a newborn, and I find myself remembering today little noises he made, and the first time he smiled, rolled over, crawled, and took his first steps.

Today my son isn't so little anymore.  He is a very big boy, as he told me yesterday while eating dinner.  I asked if he needed help getting the pasta on his fork and he looked at me and said, "No, I'm a big boy".  Boy, isn't that the truth!  He is such a fun age now, where we can have little conversations, his sense of humor is coming through, along with his personality, and he is so smart and witty and funny! 

More then anything, though, I have come to realize this year just how much of a blessing this little boy has been not just in my life, but in the lives of everything who knows him.  It has been a very hard year for our family, but what made me get out of bed after everything I've been through, what made  me continue on with life and our daily routine, and put a smile on my face, was this sweet boy.  He didn't understand, and still doesn't understand, what we are going through and how we are grieving.  He just knows that he needs me to be mommy, no matter what.  He makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry, and he is helping to bring back that light in my life that went out when I lost Mom.  Without him, I would not be as strong as I am today.

My mom used to tell me how she was in love with me, and I really didn't understand how she could be in love with me until I become a mother myself.  Now, I understand what she meant by that.  You cannot help but fall totally in love with your child.  3 years ago I looked into his little eyes for the first time, and that was it: instant love.  Love that has grown everyday since.  At the time, he didn't know me, and I didn't know him, but we knew we needed each other.  I don't care if he is 3, or 30, he is always going to be my sweet baby boy.

Happy 3rd birthday John!  Mommy, Daddy, Papa, and everyone one else in your family loves you so much!!!

My son, the genius

I have decided that my little man is a genius.

Yes, yes, I know what your going to say, all parents think their children are the smartest things they have even seen.  I am no exception :)

I would have been blogging more about the smart child that I have, except that one day I opened up my laptop to discover that most keys on the keyboard had been plucked off by my smart child.  I was ready to read him the riot act, however he cozies up next to me, points to the keyboard and with a sad face and those big, brown, puppy dog eyes says, "I broke it, you fix it?"  I tell him no baby, mommy can't fix this, you broke it and you know you are not supposed to touch things that belong to mommy or anyone else.  He just looks at me, gives me a kiss, and says "I fix it Mommy".  Smart kid...knows how to butter up the mommy so her heart melts with how sweet he is and will forget about the very bad thing he has done.

Besides being a normal, destructive two year old boy, he is really become quite the smart little man.  He is very inquisitive, and has a thirst to learn new things each day.  First came colors.  He has these Mega Blocks, which he loves.  He will spend all day building what he calls "big block towers" that are taller then he is, then watch them fall down as he yells "TIMBER".  One day he started bringing me the different colored blocks and asking me what they were, so I would tell him the colors.  That was it, he was telling us colors of everything.  Numbers came next.  One of his favorite shows on Nick Jr. is Team Umizoomi, which are tiny superheros that use their mighty math powers to solve problems in their city.  They teach numbers, shapes, measurements, and the like.  He started telling me the numbers he was seeing on the screen before they would say it on the show, so I started counting with him and showing him the numbers.  Now he counts to 10 with ease, and is working on counting to 20.  From this he also learned his shapes, and can tell point out to me rectangles, triangles, pyramids, diamonds, squares, ovals, circles, cylinders, and even pentagons! 

The ABC's have been what we are currently working on.  Again, those blocks he loves to build with have the letters on them, and he started bringing me the blocks and pointing to the letters and asking me what they were. So we started using the blocks to teach him his letters, and of course he picked that up like no one's business.  Now he can tell us every letter of the alphabet.  I began singing the ABC song to him multiple times a day, and now he is starting to sing it to me, although there are letters missing from the song :)

On the subject of singing, this is his newest hobby.  He has finally learned how to sing songs.  He sings "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" (with the hand movements).  There is also a women on Nick Jr. who sings songs and does sing language and he has started singing those songs around the house and doing some of the sign language. 

His vocabulary grows by leaps and bounds everyday.  He can string up small sentences together, and he can tell us things he wants.  Like tonight, he was playing with a bouncy ball and it somehow got into the kitchen sink.  He came over to me and said "Mommy ball in kitchen, come get it".  He is also just a little parrot, and says the funniest things.  The best part is that he knows he is funny.  He has a great personality.

He loves books, and at nap time and bed time we sit down together on my bed, him laying in my lap on a big blanket, and we read.  The other night I came into my room for reading time and he was sitting on my bed with his favorite book open.  I sat down next to him and he began "reading" the story to me page by page, picking out key things he knew about the story to tell me.  This shows me he already has great comprehension and memory skills.

Our only struggle at this point is potty training.  He knows what a potty is, and he knows what you do in the potty, but when bringing out the little potty and getting him to go on it is a struggle.  I have kept him bottomless, so that he is more aware of the urge to go, and explain that when he has to go, he sits on the potty.  He brings me a diaper instead and tells me "Please Mommy, diaper", and will hold it until the diaper is on, or he just pees on the floor.  I know he can figure this out, but either he likes the security of the diaper, or he is just being stubborn.  So it is a work in progress.  I'm not pushing him because I don't want him to get frustrated or have anxiety over using the potty, but it is mentioned all the time that big boys use the big potty.  I have also switched him over to Pull-Ups so he gets more of the underwear type feeling then the diaper feel. 

I am just so proud of my little man.  I think everyday as I watch him grow and play that my mom is missing out so much on this.  This is the age she loved and was so excited to watch him be because she would always so this is when they are so much fun.  I know she is watching over him.  There have been a few times very recently where he has been playing by himself and I hear  him say "Hi Geema", which was his little nickname for grandma, and he'll act like he is talking with someone.  The other day after he mentioned "Geema" a few times while I was in the kitchen, I went over to him in the living room where he was sitting on the couch with toys.  I asked him where Geema was, and he looked at me and said "Geema at doctor".  I know when Mom was going to her appointments a lot I would tell him we were taking her to the doctor.  Then I asked him where Geema was now.  Anytime I ask him he points to the ceiling and tells me "Up there".  This isn't something I have addressed with him yet because at the time she passed, he has no idea what happened and was so little he never asked where she went.  She spent so little time in this house that I think he was used to her not being here.  It may have been different if we were still living over in our old apartments.  But now as he is getting older he is mentioning her more, which makes me believe she is probably giving him little visits.  I plan on putting together a scrapbook of her with all the boxes of pictures she has just for him, and then we can sit down together and I can tell him stories about her.  I think she would like that.

Happy 33rd to Me

A few days ago, I celebrated my 33rd birthday. It was a quiet day here for me, just doing what I do everyday, taking care of my little boy. As nice as it would have been to get out and do something, who the heck wants to go out when it is 110 outside!? Not this lady...

It was a hard birthday for me though, the first one without my Mom. She loved celebrating my birthday so much, any birthday in fact. When I was a kid, she threw me a birthday every year from the age of 5 to 18. She'd spend time planning the menu and the games and who we should invite. When I was 16 and decided I didn't want a birthday pary, she decided to throw me a suprise party anyway. Once I became an adult, we didn't have anymore parties, but she always made sure that I had a cake and nice dinner and we spent it together. 

I'd like to think that in Heaven, she was up there with my family and throwing me a party up there, still enjoying the day. Or at the very least, she was looking down and smiling, remembering it was my special day. It just brings it closer to home that these are events that she will no longer be apart of with us in person, but only in thought and spirit. Four months later, and I still feel like I am in shock, like I expect her to just walk through the door at any minute.

But I know that she would want me to continue to live my life to the fullest, and celebrate these events and holidays with the same enthusiam ad gusto that she always did. And so I will.

Posting a little Bzz on Filippo Berio

For those of you who don't know, I am a member of a site called BzzAgent (www.bzzagent.com), which deals with word of mouth marketing.  You will be invitied to campagins based on your likes and what fits best with you based on survey answers, and they send you bzzkits, which contains a free sample of the product, plus coupons to pass along to family and friends.

I recently was invitied to join their Filippo Berio Olive Oil Campaign.  I was excited to try this brand, because I do love to cook with olive oil, it is healthy for you, and well, I am Italian, olive oil is something we love to cook with!  I normally only buy the store brand though, because other brands are just too expensive.

The other night I have some chicken that was stuffed with aspargus that I had purchased at Fry's, and I drizzeled a little of the Filippo Berio on top.  The first thing I noticed was how think the oil was, not runny like the store brand.  Also, the flavor was so good, I could actually taste what real olive oil should taste like.  It is now my go to oil whenever I need to sautee some chicken or veggies, or just as a little dressing on a salad.

Happy Mother's Day

I took some time away from my blog, and really haven't spent much time lately on my actual laptop.  I check my emails and Facebook through my phone, but haven't had the motivation to get on here and blog, or play the games I normally like to play at night after my little one goes to bed.  I find that during the day, I get so busy taking care of my little one, that I don't have time to dwell on the grief I feel.  However, it is at nighttime, when everyone is asleep, my husband is at work, and I am all alone, that I just feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.  I feel the grief, and all I want to do is get under the covers and just be.  I don't feel like moving, sometimes I don't even want to watch TV.  Sleep is okay on some nights, so-so most of the time.  I'm also angry, at her.  I am angry she isn't here, I am angry that she died, I am angry that she left me.  Then I feel guilty for being so angry with her.  But I know that is all part of the stages you go through.  I have felt like I haven't been able to get past that.  I realized tonight I need to start writing here again, talk about  how I feel.  Keeping it all inside doesn't help, and won't help me get to the point of acceptance.

Tonight, though, on this first Mother's Day without Mom, I reflect on just how wonderful of a mother she was, and how much she taught me, and helped to shape me into the woman and mother I am today.  My mom was a mother young, at 18, and her and I grew up together.  She didn't know what she was doing, but she knew she loved me, and that was all she needed.  She raised me to be a person of strong character, strength, love, compassion, and respect.  A lot of times, people would call me "little mother", because as much as she mothered me, I mothered her right back.  I am just a natural care-taker, and I just always had the sense that I needed to take care of, that without me she wouldn't be able to survive.  I know this may sound silly, but I believe we did need each other to survive.  We had the perfect balance in our relationship, growing up she was my mother and I respected her, and I knew that if I was told not to do something, I better not do it because she would be good to her word on whatever the punishment might be.  But we were also friends, and as I become an adult, we became best friends.  I could tell her anything in the world, upsetting or embarrassing, and she would never judge me.  She just listened to me quietly while I rambled on, and then she'd offer up the best advice ever.  She never failed in making a bad situation better.  I could have lost everything in the world, and she would have known just what to say to make me calm and feel better.  She made sure that I had the best things, even is she had to scrimp and save for weeks or months in order for her to be able to get them for me.  She was also the most selfless person I have ever known.  She gave to others before she took for herself, and she would go without to make sure her family was taken care of.  Her sense of humor was awesome, her and I laughed all the time, and she had the weirdest quirks, but it made her unique.

I suppose it is very honest to say that the mother/daughter relationship we had was unique as well.  I wanted to be around here, all the time, I had no problem living with her and seeing her everyday.  We did everything together.  We'd spend hours together, only for me to go home and talk to her more on the phone, or computer.  I wish that everyone had the kind of relationship with their mother that I had with mine.  I feel badly for those who don't.  I'm not sure why we were as close as we were, perhaps because we grew up together.  I just know I'll never have that with anyone again.

Today we sent up a balloon to mom, we all wrote on it, the baby scribbled on it, and off it went to her.  It's just a small way to let her know how much we still love her, and always will.  Today I hugged my son, grateful that she taught me how to be a good mom, and glad that I can be here to continue on her legacy, teaching my son things she would have taught him, and making sure he never forgets just how wonderful his grandma was.

Happy Mother's Day Momma, I love you with all my heart.

Trying to Deal

Lately I feel like there is something wrong with me.  I feel as though I should be acting differently then I am.  I feel as though I should be curled up in bed under the covers, crying constantly, totally consumed in grief.  I mean, this is my mom I just lost, my whole wide world.  She was my everything, my best friend.  I could always count on her being right there at my side through life.  I probably depended on her more then I should have.  But I didn't care, she needed me, and I needed her.  This is a huge loss for me.  Actually, huge doesn't even begin to describe what kind of loss this is for me.  Imagine someone being there every single day of your life, no matter what, loving you and supporting you, being your rock, your best friend.   The one person you do everything with.  Then, just take them away and try and understand that your never going to see this person for the rest of your life.  Never hear their voice, their laugh, watch all the little quirks and things that they do.  It's as though someone reached into your soul and just stole it.  I feel as though I should be a basket case.  Yet, somehow I wake up every morning, and some days I manage to go by without shedding a single tear.  I believe my son has a big part in that.  I am mommy, and that is a never-ending job. As a two year old, he doesn't comprehend what is going on around here, and the loss we are all trying to deal with.  He just knows he needs me to be his mommy, kiss his boo-boo's and make him food, and play with him, and take care of his daily needs.  He is truly what keeps me going.  Without him, I really do think I'd be a basket case, laying in bed all day never wanting to emerge from the covers. 


But life goes on, they say.  I know I  need to grieve, and go through all those stages they take about.  But I feel like I stop myself.  I really don't know why.  Perhaps I am just used to being the strong one, and making sure everyone else is taken care of.  But, to be truly honest with myself, I just don't think I have admitted to myself she is really gone.  It is easier for me to put it out of my mind, like she is just still at the hospital and one day she'll get better and be able to come home.  This just doesn't seem like it could be true, how in the world did we lose her!?  She was just diagnosed, they have a treatment plan set for her, and even though the prognosis wasn't the best for her, we knew we had some time left.  The BAM!  Reality smacks you in the face.  Bringing home her urn, and placing it on our wall unit, bring the reality of what happened truly home for me.  I find myself looking at the urn, and thinking, "How the hell did this happen?  How the hell did you end up in a box!?".  It is getting harder each day to keep up the charade in my head that this didn't happen with an urn is staring you in the face. 


I just wish I knew how to deal with this.  I wish she was here to tell me how to, because she'd be the one person who would have all the right words to  make me feel better.  But I know what she'd tell me.  She'd say, "Don't be upset, because I am happy now.  I don't have any pain, I have a healthy body, I have family with me, and am finally where I have always wanted to be, with Jesus, praising him all day long and learning from him.  I had a hard life, things never went the right way for me, I always felt like a burden, even though everyone would tell me I am not, I never felt well for the longest time, I worried about finances and always felt like an outsider.  Now, I am released of all that.  Just be happy for me".


As I just typed these words, I feel as though she was just speaking through me, and I have to take comfort in that.  I have no doubt those words are what she'd speak to me if she could.  So I try not to be so sad, I just try to live my life, take care of my son that way she would want me to, make sure my dad is being taken care of just like she would have, and take care of my husband.  I found an email in her account tonight where she was telling someone about me, and she said she thought I was perfect no matter what, and that I was the best thing to ever happen to her, and she'd go through everything she had to again just to still have me.  You know what mom, you were perfect to me too. :)

Rest in Peace

On March 2, 2012, at 1:50pm, my beautiful mother, Cynthia, went home to be with the Lord. 


As I last posted, her doctor had asked us to make a very hard decision as to whether or not she would want to live her life out in the hospital bed, hooked up to some many tubes and IVs, laying there on a ventilator because she was unable to breathe on her own, and on constant kidney dialysis because her kidneys had completely failed.  My dad wanted to take a few days to think over this decision, because ultimately, he was the one who was going to have to have the final say, and he wanted just some sort of glimmer of hope that she might pull through, or start improving.  The meeting with the family was on Wednesday, and Friday morning, we received a call from mom's nurse stating that it looked as though Mom had a massive heart attack, and they had been having a very tough time keeping her blood pressure up.  With this latest news, we knew that she had made this very hard decision for us. 


We gathered at the hospital, and they called in a chaplain to be there with us.  As I went into her room, I felt so dizzy and lightheaded.  While on Wednesday I had said to her what I needed to say to her to get in my goodbye's in case I didn't have a moment alone with her again, it all just felt surreal.  I keep thinking in my head that God was going to give us a miracle, she was going to wake from this.  But the nurse said even when they lowered her sedation, she wouldn't respond or move, even though she had been before.  It was just time for her to get peace.  Her body, her shell, was too sick, and her spirit I know must have been watching over us waiting to be released to Heaven.  But even though I knew she would be happy to go to Heaven, us who have to stay behind are selfish. 


We finally had to let her go, and I wish I could say it was a peaceful experience when we entered back into that room after they removed her breathing tube, but it wasn't.  Her eyes were wide open and her mouth wide open, and she seemed to be gasping for air.  While I know she wasn't suffering, and it was just her body doing what it needed to do, and she was probably already gone, it was just too much for me.  I thought I could handle anything, but this, no way.  I kissed her hand and I told her it was OK to go to Heaven, that I'd take care of everyone.  Then I just felt this overwhelming urge to throw up, and at the same time, just a force trying to get me turn around and not look at her.  I turned my chair as fast as I could so my back was to her, and the Chaplain prayed from Psalm 23.  Then, it was done.  Once I heard the monitors start beeping, I knew she was gone, and again I felt a force to just get out of the room, and my aunt Kelly helped me. 


I truly believe in that moment, Mom was there, watching over us.  I truly believe she knew I shouldn't be there for that, and she was protecting me by giving me that force to turn around and not see her die, and to get me out of that room so I wouldn't turn around and see her laying there.  I know that she knows I was not strong enough for that.  It gives me some peace in my heart to know that even as she was heading to Heaven, she thought enough to protect me. 


It has been seven days since my mom has passed.  I feel numb.  I feel like I stop myself from crying because I want to be strong for my family.  She always said I was the glue that held the family together, and I feel as though I need to be strong so they can grieve and have me to talk to, to help them through this.  I just don't want to deal with this.  I have a hard time believing I am never going to see my mom again, that I am never going to talk to her, touch her, hear her laugh.  The last month of her life she was so sick, and I think she knew that she was not long for this life, but she never made this known to me.  The last few days she was at home before going back into the hospital she didn't talk much really, slept a lot.  Didn't seem to want to carry on any kind of conversation.  In return, I tried not to be around her as much because she didn't look herself, she looked sick, and I think I knew, subconsciously, that she was dying, and I refused to face it.  Looking at her was so hard for me, I remember telling Phil on several occasions that I felt better when she wasn't home because then I didn't have to face how sick she was.  Now, I have regrets.  I should have talked to her more, I should have let her know that she could have talked to me openly.  However, I believe she just was trying to protect me again.  She knew how upset I was, and I think she kept it all to herself.  We talked about anything, but this was the only thing I don't think she felt she could talk to me about, and now I feel  bad. 


The chaplain asked us to tell her about my mom, a favorite memory, her personality.  Where do you even start with her.  My mother was the kindest, wisest, beautiful, smartest, and caring person I have ever known.  She always knew how to fix things, make things better.  She had wonderful advice, though I never always took it.  She had the best sense of humor, we'd laugh for hours.  She loved her family so much.  She'd always give and give, and never take anything in return.  She always felt she was a burden,  but she never was.  She never thought she was smart, but she knew so much.  She was the best mother.  She knew just how to have the perfect relationship with me in being  my mother, and my friend at the same time.  Honestly, I can look back at my childhood, and as I told her recently, I have no bad memories.  We always had fun, she always kept me safe, she always kept me fed and dressed with a roof over my head.  She was truly my other half.  It was as though we were always attached right at the hip.  There was never a day that we didn't see each other, or didn't talk. 


The thing I am happiest about is that I was able to give her a beautiful grandchild that was just her whole world these past two years.  She was so excited about being a grandma, and when he was born she even shook his hand and told him it was nice to meet him.  She said she felt they should have a formal introduction.  She was so funny like that.  She would do anything for this little boy, her face would just lit up every time she saw him.  She wanted to watch him grow up, and she wanted to teach him so many things.  He just loves her too, in fact a lot of times he used to call her mama, because was like another mommy to him.  The one thing she was most proud of though:  he has her nose, and she thought that was so cool..


My aunt said that I am made up of all the best parts of my mom, and I sure hope so.  I hope that I can do her proud in my life, and continue on traditions and such that she liked and would want us to do in her place.  I hope that I can continue her legacy of being such a good person, who takes care of everyone.  I hope I can be just half the mother to my son that she was to me, and that he will live on in her as well. 


I just have to figure out now how to live without my other half being with me.  Even with all my family and friends around me, I have never felt so alone in my whole life.  But, she is no longer suffering.  For that, I must be happy that she gets to be with the Lord, be with her father, and other family, and even the baby Phil and I lost a few years ago.  I couldn't ask for anyone better to be there taking care of that child until I am able to be reunited with them again someday.


I love you mommy, rest in peace my sweet girl.

Reality

My mom's doctor called us in for a meeting yesterday.  While sitting there staring at my mother, with the breathing tube down her throat, the ventilator, the constant kidney dialysis machine running, and so many other tubes and IV wires going into her that I lost count, he told us he is chasing his tail in treating her.  They have done everything that they can for her, but even if they can get her off the vent, or her  kidneys start to improve, the cancer within her is going to keep growing and spreading.  Basically, even if they could get her stable and fix even one or two things that is wrong with her, the cancer is going to take her over anyway because she isn't strong enough for cancer treatments. He asked us, if she could step out of the bed, stand where we were, looking at herself like that, is this what she would want for her?  Is this how she'd want to live out her life?

Reality hits you at that moment.  At least it did for me.  I am always the strong one in the family.  Mom always calls me the glue that keeps the family together.  As hard as this has been, I keep a strong, brave face when dealing with the family, in person, or in phone calls, because I want to be here for everyone, I want to make this better for everyone who is suffering.  Nights are the worst for me, when my husband is working, and my son and dad are asleep, and I am alone in my room.  That is when I have my moments, when I break down.  I feel like I need to do this in private, although I am not sure why.  It isn't like anyone who blame me for breaking down.  However, as reality hit me, straight in the face at 9am on a Wednesday morning, I couldn't hold it anymore.  I broke.  I crumbled.  I cried, I couldn't look the doctor in the face, I could no longer hear what he was saying.  All I did was look at her, laying there asleep, under heavy sedation, and tried to will her awake.  I prayed for a miracle.  Her eyes would open, and she would move around, and I kept thinking she was listening to this doctor tell us we had to  make a decision on whether to end her life, and how scared she must be, but the doctor said she was under heavy sedation and that she couldn't hear us, or knows what is going on, it is just reflexes. 

How do you make that decision, how do you decide if it is time to end someones life, when they aren't in the position to make that decision for themselves?  It would be great if she had a living will, where she stated this isn't what she wanted for herself.  Even better would be if she had the ability to tell us for herself if she is ready to go home to Jesus.  Things go through your mind, what if she would be mad at us?  What if she wants to keep holding on?  What if she is just screaming inside for us to let her go?  And selfishly, I think the main issue is, what do we all do without her?

A few weeks ago my mom had a vision.  She was alone in the living room, sitting her in recliner, and she said in front of her a vision came before her.  It was a meadow type place, with a big tree.  As she approached the tree, underneath was Jesus, and her father.  She stood under the tree with them, one of them of each side, and she said Jesus put his arm around her, and stroked her hair, and told her it was okay, he was with her.  They were both with her.  She told me that if something happens to her, I should take comfort in the fact that she will be under the tree with Jesus and he'll take care of her.  I've heard before that people have premonitions.  Sometimes people know when things are going to happen to them.  Maybe this is a sign she received, to know that she would be in Heaven, and she would safe in Jesus's arms.  That her father she loved so much would be with her again taking care of her as well.  I suppose that comforts me a bit, knowing that she will be where she wants to be, home with Jesus.  She'll have a healthy body, she'll feel no more pain, she'll be happy.  It just doesn't seem fair for us, the living.  How do I get through a day without her?  How do I get through life?  Will she watch over me?  How do I make decisions without her, or get through a bad day?  Who do I talk to, when I really need to confide in someone, when I really need someone to be there for me who understands me like no other? 

As much as I have family and friends around me to help me, love me, and support me, I've never been so alone in all my life.  And I always will be.

Say It Out Loud

Whenever my mom has a negative thought, my dad has always told her that you should never say those negative thoughts outloud, because what comes out of your mouth will become truth. If you speak the negative, the Devil hears you, and that negative happens.

Today, my dad and I were discussing my mom, and the current state of her health, and anxious about what the doctor will say to us tomorrow. It is so easy to go right to the negative, thinking of the ultimate choice that we might have to make and how we make it, instead of just going right to the positive. I belive the Devil works us, and puts these negative thoughts into our head to sabatoge us. He gets joy from watching us go through pain, and watching us endure tragedy. It's so easy for me to feel as though my mom is already gone from us, as though she will not pull through this current ordeal. So much is against her, so many things are ravaging her body, and I suppose we always go right to the negative in order to protect ourselves, so we can be completely prepared for it.

The Devil has been working on me hard, especially today. The negative thoughts clouded my judgement so much last night that I did not to bed until 6am, and then was up at 7:45a with my little one. That tiredness I was feeling, that mental exhaustion, just brought those negative thoughts even more into my head. I decided tonight, though, that enough is enough. I need to rebuke this Devil in the name of Jesus. I will not listen to those negative thoughts that try to creep into my head. I must think postive, and in order for the postive to happen, I must speak the postive out loud.

Tonight I pray for my mom. I have postive thoughts that she is going to pull through this, that her kidneys start working, she is able to start breathing on her own. That her body is healed by the grace of God through all of her infirmities, and that she comes home to us. Because I speak this out loud, I must feel in my heart that this will be truth. Tomorrow I go to the hospital to see her, and having to see her on a ventilator is not something I want to see again, nor would she want me to see her like that. But her and I need to have a private talk. I am going to sit down next to her bedside and speak to her so frankly. I am going to tell her that she is a warrior, a fighter. That she needs to work hard to fight the evil in her body and that she is going to come home to us and that we will have so much more time together. I know she is sedated, but I just have a feeling that whereever she is in her subconcious, she is going to hear me and know what I am telling her.

I say this outloud, therefore, it must come true.

Update on where I've been

I had really high hopes that 2012 was going to be a much better year then 2011. I found a home to rent that my parents could move into with us so that they wouldn't be burdened by finances since my Dad is no longer able to work, and may possible need a heart transplant. We went into the year thinking that we would be able to get him on the list, start getting his health back on track, and I felt great knowing that I was going to be able to help my mom with taking care of him, and also just being back with my mom again. Her and I are best friends, and while most people wouldn't dream of living with their mom, I am totally in love with it. Her and I are like two peas in a pod.

However, things changed dramatically at the very first of the year. My mom has had health problems for several years. She has diabetes, and a hernia she had from a gall bladder surgery that we thought was giving her a lot of pain. She also had a period pretty much constantly for the past five years, but being stubborn, and afraid, she never went to the doctor, and figured she just had fibroids. The past year, her health has declined so much, she was tired all the time, no energy, always felt sick. She would say I bet I have cancer, and I'd say whatever Mom.

At the end of December, she began bleeding heavily, to the point where she was sitting in the bathtub for one to three hours with just blood gushing from her vagina, along with blood clots. After three days of this, and watching her get sicker, I finally scared her and told her she was going to bleed out if she didn't get into the hospital immediately. After tests, and being transferred down to Good Sam in Phoenix where they had the best gynecological oncology doctor, they believed she had cancer. The bleeding got worse, her pain got worse, and on January 1st they did a complete hysterectomy on her, along with removing her hernia. Her uterus was three to four times the size it should have been, with a very large tumor, tumors in her cervix, and her ovaries compromised. She had Stage 3 Endometerial Cancer, but her prognosis at that time was good. They would do chemo, then radiation, then chemo, and the doctor was optimistic that she would do very well.

However, upon returning home from that surgery, her pain worsened, especially on her left lower side. She had been having pain in that area for the past six months, but always attributed it to menstrual cramps. Then pain was getting worse, and she went back into the hospital. It was then that they discovered a tumor on her bladder, and come to the discovery that the cancer had spread into her lymph node system. She was urinating blood, and a stint was placed in her left ureter to help relieve pressure. They wanted to start radiation treatments in the hospital, but they sent her home instead. A treatment plan was set into place, where she would receive radiation 5 days a week for 7 weeks, along with chemo once a week for 12 weeks, to treat this cancer aggressively. Her cancer had moved to Stage 4. Back home with us she went.

My poor mom's health has been declining more and more with each passing week, it seems as though doing the hysterectomy angered the cancer to make it spread, and is just attacking her body. She would just sit in her recliner here, sleeping on and off because she is on two different morphine medications to help with pain, and couldn't even really carry on a conversation, or even play with her grandson, who is just her whole world. A few night ago, the worst hit. She woke up from a nap around dinner time, and was very unresponsive, saying only a few words here and there, and we called 911. Her blood sugar was at 21, which is something that never has happened with her, normally her sugars run high. Off to Good Sam again, where she was placed in ICU in order to have her blood sugar monitored every 15 minutes, and was given basically pure sugar constantly, but her numbers kept being so low. It was determined that her kidneys were swollen, and with her ureters being blocked do to pressure from the tumor on her bladder and pressure from the cancer in the lymph nodes, they just weren't functioning normally and a medication she has been on for years will attack the kidneys when they are compromised and cause the lowering of the blood sugar.

Two days ago my dad and I saw her, and she was hallucinating, and very disoriented, which they believed was just from lack of sleep and the morphine. She would think people were in the room with her, and when they did an MRI on her brain to ensure that the cancer hadn't spread there (it hasn't), she thought they were trying to kill her. Her doctor had her go down to have a procedure to put a stint in her right ureter and she refused thinking they were going to hurt her, and we were called down to calm her down, but it didn't work.

The next morning, yesterday, we first received a call from a kidney specialist who told us that her kidney's were failing, and they would need to start dialysis. 20 minutes later her nurse was calling telling us that she was in acute kidney failure, she was having trouble breathing on her own, and needed to be placed on a ventilator immediately. I found out later that during the procedures of trying to get her ventilated, she did code out on them, and they were very close to losing her, but they got her stabilized. They put a catheter in her neck for dialysis, and because she vomited trying to put the tube in her throat and lungs, food particles entered into her lungs and they started her on antibiotics because she will get pneumonia from that.

My husband and I went up to see her yesterday afternoon, and I wasn't sure how I was going to handle seeing her on life support. I guess the grace of God was with me because they were doing dialysis when we went up there, and with all the machines, I wasn't able to get into the room with my chair. Phil went in though, and he said it was good I couldn't get into the room, because it looked like she had really gone through it. I saw her from outside the ICU window though, and it broke my heart. The nurse was explaining what was happening, and I feel as though I couldn't comprehend all of it, because my eyes kept just looking at her so helpless, and I would have given anything in that moment to trade places with her, and take it all away from her.

Today they placed the stint in her right ureter, and did dialysis again, and they will also do it tomorrow. They are hoping to get her off the ventilator, but after doing a blood gas tonight, they had to increase the ventilation. Hopefully her blood gas levels will improve, so they can decrease the ventilation. The nurse told me tonight that her oncologist wants to have a meeting with my dad and I on Friday, and I am very nervous. I can hope and pray that he just wants to touch base with us about her condition, and is optimistic, but there is a large part that worries the meeting will go the other way, and we may be forced to make a decision that none of us want to make.

I've stepped away from my blogging because I've been so busy with our move, taking care of my family, and now everything that has happened with my mom. I know I have family and friends to talk to, and for support, but there has always been something very therapeutic for me in writing out my feelings, because when I just can't talk to anyone, when it is too hard for me to get my feelings out, when I just can't keep putting on a brave front, I know I can come here and just talk it out.

I know I have family who reads my blog, and this is such a hard time for all of us. I hope you understand my need to vent here, and never get upset about anything I may write. I just need this. I put on the brave face, and the strong exterior, because I have always been on to take care of everyone else around me, but I am crumbling. I am drowning. This is the one thing I just can't handle. Without her to talk to right now, I am alone. She always knows how to make it better, to calm me down, to tell me everything is going to be alright and we'll make it through this. She knows how to make this better for me, but she can't right now. She is lying by herself right now on life support, and I just want to sit there with her 24/7 so she isn't alone and scared. I know she is sedated, but I have always taken care of her, and now I just can't. There is nothing I can do, and I just sit and wait, and I want to throw things, I want to yell, I want to get mad, I want to cry all day and just lay in bed all day. But this is not how she'd want me to be right now, especially with the baby to take care of. So I have my down moments in bed at night, like now, and in the morning, when I hopefully have slept a few hours, I put on a happy face for my beautiful son and try to make it okay for everyone.

We just need to keep praying. God is with her, wrapping His healing arms around her, and she just has to improve. She just has to.

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Patience is a Virtue

I used to be the most patient person I knew. Waiting in rush hour traffic never bothered me, standing in a long line was no big deal, or even waiting at the doctor's office was just a time for me to catch up on reading. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, I lost my patience. Now in my early 30's, there is nothing worse then being behind a slow driver, or sitting around waiting for your doctor when he should have been in the room twenty minutes ago. I can feel my blood pressure start to rise, I'll tap my foot in frustration, and sigh loudly.

As a parent now, I have found that my patience level has gone down even further. While everyone told me the first year was going to be the hardest, I found it to be a piece of cake! It is the toddler years that I am finding to be the struggle, and the source of losing my patience. I never take out my frustrations on my child, because it is not his fault that he whines for thirty minutes because I told him it is not safe to climb on the couch when mommy is not there with him, or because he doesn't want to eat the nice dinner I made for him. It also isn't his fault when he whines and cries about taking a nap, or going to bed. With lack of communication, he can't tell me what he really wants, and doesn't understand me when I tell him something isn't safe, or a no-no. But as calm as I am on the outside to him, on the inside I just feel my patience slipping, and I get frustrated and just want to leave the house and take a break.

I know I am not the only mother who feels this way, we all go through it, especially us stay at home mom's that deal with everything on our shoulders day in and day out. But I've come to realize that we cannot change these things, such as the slow driver in the fast lane, or the child who refuses to take a nap. Getting frustrated and impatience is only going to make the situation worse. I'm coming to understand that I just need to let go, and let God.

In Romans 12:12 it says: Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. When times feel as though they are getting to be too much to handle, when you feel your blood pressure start to rise and you feel like yelling and screaming, just take a minute, a deep breathe, and pray. Tell the Lord that the situation you are in is becoming more then you can handle, and you need peace and calmness. Give your worries over to the Lord, tell Him what you need and hand it over to Him. He wants to solve your troubles, He wants you to be at peace.

The other day I found myself in the position of losing my patience when my son was fighting me on nap time. I took a minute to myself in my room to take a deep breathe, and pray for peace. I felt a calmness come over me, and I was able to go into my son's room and I believe he felt the peace I had, because he settled down in my arms and was able to fall asleep for his nap.

Don't ever be ashamed to ask for the Lord's help when times are hard and we are suffering, for He is there for us. It is during these times of strife, and impatience, and frustration, that we can become closer to the Lord.


More then that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us Romans 5:3-5

Reconnecting with my Faith

There have been many times in my life where I have felt an urging to do something, an inner voice perhaps that sounded as though it was my own, but now, learning more about my faith in God, I realize that the voice I have been hearing is that of God speaking to me, giving me a path and direction for what I am meant to do. Many times, that voice in my head tells me that I need to spread the Word of God. When I see people speaking about God on television, such as preachers, or I read articles or devotionals, I often feel in my heart that I could do that, that I can use my talents in writing to share my faith with others. But I never do.

I suppose I have always been afraid to speak of my faith in the Lord. Like politics, people have different views and opinions and beliefs, and religion has become something that can cause either a common understand between people, or strife. I have always been a very non-confrontational person. Never want to say something that could upset anyone, never want to disagree. Even if someone says something that I do not agree with, or believe, I will just nod as though I do so I do not make waves. I have always felt uncomfortable speaking about the Lord, for reasons I just do not know. I suppose maybe someone will think I am a bible thumper, pushing my views on them whether it is wanted or not. Sometimes I even think I am ashamed, because there have been times recently when I have not been very strong in my faith, when I haven't prayed faithfully, when I haven't been a good Christian.

I've come to a point in my life recently, when it seems that one bad thing after another has happened to our family, that I realized the importance of rebuilding my faith in the Lord. When I prayed faithfully, when I had Him in my heart, things went well. What a difference it makes when you stray away from that! But no matter how far I strayed, God was always there, knocking on the door, silently waiting for me to answer Him and receive Him in my heart once again. I knew what I had to do; I had to open that door.

I reconnected with a friend from high school, and I noticed recently she had spoken of starting a ministry at her church, but it had not worked out. I mentioned perhaps she should start a ministry on Facebook, since it is a site we, along with many others, frequent. She liked the idea, and together we came up with a mom's bible study/blog idea for Facebook about Raising God's Child, with our motto being that we are changing the world one little heartbeat at a time. My hope is that through my blog, and hers, and with a fan page she is going to be setting up through Facebook, we can come together with other mom's who are with Christ, and raising their children in Christ's love, and all share our struggles and our blessings as we go through life. Once we get everything set I will post the information, so those of you on Facebook can join our ministry and help spread the Word.

I want to send this post with a bible verse that I came across today, that I believe truly signifies what I am meant to do, and also what this new ministry we are starting is meant to do.

As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. Whoever speaks, let him speak, as it were, the utterances of God; whoever serves, let him do so as by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen 1Peter 4:10-11

Posting a little bzz about Covergirl

I am a member of a website called bzzagent.com. This company is all about word of mouth advertising, and based on survey's you fill out about your lifestyle and preferences, you will recieve invites to join campaign's for products, in which they send you for free to try out, along with coupons for friends and family, and other great information. I've recieved so many free products, including Covergirl makeup, which while I don't have a lot of time to always put on makeup while chasing down the little man, when I do get a chance to go out, I always use Covergirl.

Right now it is Covergirl's 50th Anniversary, so I am sharing a little bzz about that, and hope you check out this link to find out more information if you like!



http://www.facebook.com/covergirl?v=app_160134610689223

Attack of the Allergies!

Pardon my absence from here, but I've had my face buried in tissues!

I never had allergies when I was growing up, but somewhere in my twenties I noticed that during the spring and fall I'd sneeze a little more then usual, and my eyes would become red and itchy. I hit my thirties though, and that was it, I spend more time with my face in a tissue then anything else.

I thought at first I was going to get the cold that the little man woke up with one morning. He had a terrible cough, and with RSV and Croup running rampant around here, I made a call to the doctor to make sure it was nothing more then a simple cold. Luckily, she was able to diagnose over the phone based on his symptoms that he didn't have anything to be concerned about, and instructed me to let it run its course. Of course, after Christmas time and the endless bouts of illness we had around here, I thought we would get a reprieve, but not so much. I knew with his coughing and sneezing on me, I was going to get it too.

However, it seems allergies got to me first. Last week we had a day of terrible wind, and after that I couldn't leave the house without the eyes watery like I was crying and sneezing almost uncontrollably. Along with that, my nose decided it had enough, and seemed to close up on me, making it impossible to breathe, eat, drink, or sleep. Thank goodness for that new Advil Congestion Relief. I wonder if I can get an endorsement deal....

Anywho, with a sick baby and a sick mommy, I know we haven't been the easiest for hubby to live with. This past week I had just a handful of sleep between being up with the baby who was miserable, and then being up myself because I couldn't breathe. The other night I was so miserable and just wanted to sleep, but had the baby up and I just started crying. It was as though my body just couldn't handle anymore of not feeling well and not sleeping. I usually can handle being sick pretty well, but this allergy/cold attack was really taking its toll on me.

The little man is finally feeling better to where he is able to sleep through the night again, and my nose has finally decided to unstuff itself enough to allow me to eat, drink, and thank goodness, get some much needed sleep! I slept so hard that I didn't even know hubby had gotten up for work, got dressed, and left! I even started feeling human enough to cook dinner last night, although I can't smell anything. This has become helpful though in not being able to smell dirty diapers, however now I have to constantly wrangle him for enough time to check his pants to make sure he hasn't gone. I'll know when I am well again when I get a whiff of that as he runs past me.

Squeak!

I had a toy stuck under my chair.

Your probably saying to yourself, "Huh?", so let me explain. I had a toy stuck under my power chair, for the 3rd time this week, and I could not get it to leave me.

One of the joys of being a mommy in a power chair means that things tend to get stuck underneath my chair, and then I drag them around all day until either I finally roll around enough for it to become unstuck, or my husband comes home and can reach under there and retrieve it. With a house definitely lived in by a toddler, and may even put a preschool to shame, it is not hard for me to get something stuck under me for the day. Sometimes it is clothes that get stuck on a wheel, other times an empty water or soda bottle as my son loves to bang around the house. Today, it was a bright blue rubber duck.

I'm not sure how the duck got there. I am assuming I must have backed up over it as I left his room after putting him down for his nap. I suddenly felt the familiar feeling of something dragging underneath me and I knew just what I had done. "Here we go again", I thought, wondering what it is that I will be making friends with for the day. It wasn't until I went from the hardwood floor of the living room/kitchen area, and into my carpeted bedroom that I heard the squeak.

That's right, for an entire afternoon, I squeaked.

I suppose I should start being more careful about looking where I am going, or shall I say rolling, but I've become so accustomed to just going about my daily business, and forgetting that my house has a million things just waiting to be rolled over. I spend more time making sure I am not going to run over the dog or the baby, since they love to hang out in what I call my "blind spots". A common phrase in my house is, "Where are you?", to which I hear happy little feet toddle out from behind me so I know it is safe to proceed. Sometimes I even have to move the husband out of the way, since after four years of being together, he still sometimes gets under my wheels.

Toys, however, I forget are attracted to the bottom of my chair like a magnet.

I think this is another one of those things that makes me unique as a mommy. I don't hear many moms complain about getting toys attached to them for an entire afternoon, and then proceed to squeak. At least it made the little man laugh, and frankly, I'll do anything just to hear that beautiful sound.

What did you just say!? When your toddler misuses a common word...obscenely

Before becoming a parent, I remember friends of mine with toddlers would either put their kids on the phone or have them talk to me in person, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never understand what it was they were saying. To me, it all sounded like a bunch of gibberish. So, as I am sure many can attest to, you do the popular nod of the head and the "Oh, really?" comment, and hope that suffices. That is usually when the parent steps up and says, "Sally just asked you for a cookie", giving you that look of "DUH, how did you not understand that".

With a sixteen month of my own now, I understand fully how mothers can understand their toddler's gibberish. It is as though they are speaking a foreign language, and only mommies understand it. I know that "Nom Nom" means he wants to eat, but that "Nommy Nommy" means he wants a drink. "Cook", followed by his hand patting the stove, means I am supposed to cook him some food, and "a done" means he is done with whatever it is he was doing, whether it be playing with a toy, or done with his nap. However, he says the word "Bop" a lot, and I am still not sure what it means to him, as he says it to everything.

Unfortunately, there are some words that are clear to everyone that he is saying, although what he is saying means a totally different thing to adults. Let's look back at the word "Cook". Whenever I am making my little man a meal, he doesn't seem to understand that food has to cook in order to eat it, so I started telling him that mama cook, and that cook meant making food. Well, he learned the word alright, although let's just replace the second"O" in the word cook, with the letter "C". Wait for it.....NOW you get what he is saying!

When this gem of a word first came out of my toddler's mouth, we couldn't believe it. So I tried sounding out the O sound of the word, hoping that would help. No such luck. Whenever he is hungry, he walks around the house saying it. My husband just looked at me and said, "What did you do?"

I am sure many of you can relate to this, and I am sure this is not going to be the first word he will butcher, and I am sure such words as "truck" is going to come out sounding like a lovely four-letter expletive. I suppose, in those moments, instead of trying to explain to people in the store that no, your son does not have a fetish with a certain male body part, you can just smile, pat your little one of the head, and keep going. Only a mother would understand.