Day 267
It has been one of
THOSE weeks. I have been so incredibly
busy that I have been waking up with my heart racing and this feeling of
certain doom that I will be unable to complete all that must, according to my
list. This is not a good way to be living.
Coming home from
vacation always leads to a hectic few days, I’ve found. You kind of have to “make-up” the days you
missed. On top of that, I have had a
number of March 1 deadlines looming over my head for several different things,
all of which involve paperwork and phone calls.
I had Ben’s annual care and needs
assessment/meeting this week (more on that later). I had to start on Will’s FAFSA this
week. I grocery shopped and visited my
gynecologist today. She was horrified to
hear of Paul’s death and wanted to know if I am “taking care of yourself.” I tried not to laugh.
Oh, that reminds
me. I got kind of a sad kick out of
this, but it tickled me nonetheless. I
always have to fill out a form before I have this annual exam and on it, they
want to know what type of birth control I am using. This year I wrote, “widowhood” on the
blank. It made me kind of laugh, anyway! I
don’t think my dr was nearly so amused.
She reminded me that I might start dating at some point and that I’ll be
fertile until I’m around 52. I told her,
well, I doubt I’m going to get married
again until after it’s too late for babies.
She looked at me and said, “Well, you just give me a call when the day
comes and I’ll get you set up on something!”
Of all the things on my mind these days, birth control is not one of
them…
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Oh, what else
happened this week?
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| 1993 - the wedding reception our church in Council Bluffs had for us |
I have my bedroom
painted and Will bought carpet for it today while I was out grocery shopping. My friend Debbie came over Wed. Her son was working on his Camp Coins
When I bought the
paint earlier I could have just smacked the Menards employee that helped me,
though. I told him the color and type of
paint I wanted and that I wanted their cheapest interior paint. A few minutes later I saw him using Dutch Boy
paint, which I know is NOT cheap. I
questioned his choice in this and pointed out that their store brand is 1/3 of
the price of Dutch Boy. The employee
looked at me and said, “Oh, I thought you wanted good paint!” Seriously?!
I am pretty confident I will be moved into my room by this time next
week. How wonderful that will be! I even bought a metal track and bookshelves
this week for the room. I have not had
sufficient book space since our very first apartment 20
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I realized this week that despite my hectic pace and this continual
feeling of falling farther and farther behind I was actually happy.
I think that really stems from the fact that I made it past the 20th. I didn’t fall apart, but chose to live, as a
friend reminded me. That felt good. Of course, I still do have these moments of
familiar grief, still. I’ll be going
along and suddenly it’s there again, wrapping itself around my heart. But anymore, as quickly as it comes, it also
leaves rather rapidly. I guess that’s
progress – maybe?
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This Monday will be
our last Amanda the Panda session. It
will be nice to have our Monday nights back again, but I have really enjoyed
these group sessions, all the same. But
they have once-a-month family nights so I think we’ll try to shoot for some of
those. And then they have Camp Amanda
At our last session,
shortly before it ended, our leader passed around a box of small rocks and
asked us to pick out one that appealed to us.
Then, after we all had our rocks, she wanted us to use our rocks to
describe ourselves. Boy, did I feel put
on the spot. Talk about having to think
quickly! Mine was a flat, smooth rock,
so I said that the fact that it was flat reminded me that my life had been
completely flattened by Paul’s death.
The small nicks and uneven spots I saw on the rock were like my life
which will be forever scarred by the loss of my husband. But, the fact that the rock was completely
oval and the edges ran together seamlessly reminded me that, like the edges of
the rock, my life WILL go on. I kept the
rock. I assume it’s in the bottom of my
purse right now. One of these days I’ll
pull it out and put it somewhere where I can see it.
At the last session,
a couple of other widows in my group told me that they had missed me the week
before and wondered where I was. That’s
the Monday night I was speaking to my ladies group. So I told them what I had
been doing. The women looked at me and
asked, “How could you DO that (talk about marriage when I have been widowed so
recently)?” I told them it wasn’t easy,
but I really believed it was something I was supposed to do. Then, I shrugged and said, “Honestly, it was
God giving me the strength. I don’t know
that I could have done it without Him
holding me.” I find that I am bolder now
about my faith and beliefs. It’s kind of
nice.
Last night at Amanda
the Panda they had an advertised opportunity to make an art project – something
that could be used to decorate our home in memory of our loved one. I almost didn’t go because of my time
pressures. But I had already signed up
and I hate to not follow through on my word, so I went. I’m glad I did. They wanted us to make a large heart, divide
it into pieces to represent each member of our family, and write the strengths
that each member brings to the family.
I went a different
direction. I knew the instant I showed
up at home with something like that the kids would all demand to know why I had
ascribed certain traits to a sibling and not to them! So I made my heart and cut a smaller heart
out of the center. On that heart I
wrote, “We are Family.” Then, I cut what
was left of the heart into 7 pieces and wrote each of our names on them. I glued it back together onto a piece of
posterboard, leaving about 1/8” gap between the pictures. To me, that symbolizes that our family heart
has been broken, but is still a complete unit.
Near the bottom of the heart I
wrote “Paul” on one side with his death date and “Our Dad” on the other
side. At the very bottom I wrote, “Living
out a Legacy.” I then filled rest of the
posterboard with traits our family possesses.
We were given a frame and then I framed it.
When the program
director came by she insisted on taking a picture of mine so she could show it
to their staff. She then asked if I had
an art background! I laughed and told her
I was just a mom.
I’m going to hang my piece in the new hallway.
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Ben hasn’t had much
school the past two weeks. A week ago
Monday was Presidents’ Day. Then, we
were out of town Thursday and Friday.
This week, he had a planned early out on Tuesday. Wednesday, everyone was let out early,
unplanned, because of a water main break in Pleasantville. They had no school at all on Thursday because
of that and today they had a 2 hour delay because of it. But that’s ok. It’s not like my other kids have been having
a lot of school, either!
As I mentioned we did
have his annual meeting this week. There
was a lot to talk about. I’m switching
Ben over to the CCO option which has necessitated a LOT of paperwork on my
end. But now I can pay his SCL and
respite providers $15 and $16 per hour instead of the $8 something they were
earning before when contracted through an area agency. Also, my friend Maureen and her husband are
getting close to having their greenhouse ready and they want Ben to come work
in it so there’s been quite a bit of discussion about how that will work since
it involves state monies for Ben’s job development.
The program director
at Genesis also came, to my delight. She
is a fellow Christian and just a delightful woman. I could so easily see us being friends
outside of Ben’s involvement at Genesis.
But she and Lisa (the case manager – also someone I like immensely) told
me that Genesis has group homes. The
more they explained these homes to me, the more excited I got. From what they are telling me, this sounds like
an ideal placement opportunity for Ben in a few years. I know he desires to be independent, but I
greatly desire to keep him safe. Because
of that, I have just always assumed that
Ben would live at home until I die. At
that point he’ll live with one of his siblings.
But the idea that he could be somewhat independent, while still having
assistance for everything he needs, makes my heart sing. I had them put Ben on the waiting list
because it’s about a three year wait. I
don’t know that Ben will be ready to move out in three years but he won’t lose
his spot in the queue if we decide to wait, either. He’d be in Indianola and I could pick him up
for church and other things, as we desire.
He’d have a social group and transportation to and from wherever he ends
up working, which has been a concern to me as I contemplate my future and the
possibility of maybe having to return to work someday.
Financially, it
sounds like Paul’s death may benefit Ben, as well. These ladies were telling me that not only will
Ben be eligible for Disability once he graduates but because his father died,
he would also receive SSDI, still. At
least until the entire American economy collapses, that is…
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| Talk about a look of smugness on my face! My 22nd b-day |
So now I feel like I have some definite goals to work with Ben in
preparation for his eventual move. When
Lisa found out in conversation that I still put away all Ben’s clothes and lay
them out for him every morning she got this look on her face and exclaimed, “Sarah! Ben is 17 years old – you need to LET him be
independent. He is almost a MAN!” All
right, all right…I’m just envisioning the mess his dresser drawers will be by
the time he gets done. Since then, I’ve
started praying that God would give me other ideas of ways I can promote Ben’s
independence as well. It occurred to me
that I should buy him his own alarm clock and see if he can learn to get
himself up in the mornings.
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My mom sent me a copy
of David Jeremiah’s book on Heaven. I don’t
know if this is something new or not. It’s
really cute – just a small little, hard-bound book. I read almost the entire thing in one sitting
yesterday while David was at Learning RX.
I found myself so excited as I read it.
There is SO much waiting for us!
I’m so happy Paul is already experiencing all those delights. Oh, how fortunate he is! I’m going to read this book kids next. We had started, “Heaven is for Real” last
summer but haven’t gotten back to it yet.
I would like to finish it. I see
they have made that particular book into a movie. I find that I am reluctant to watch it,
though. I have my doubts about Hollywood being true to the
story and message and I kind of hate to have the book ruined for me before I
finish reading it.
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I had a rather
profound thought earlier this week as I was priming my bedroom. I have never felt like I am the best mom the
girls could have. I’m more equipped than
their birth mom, but since the girls arrived I have felt like they have been
getting the short stick in regards to what they deserve in a real mother. I am supposed to be writing an article on
adoption for a friend’s blog (due tomorrow, and no, I haven’t started yet) so
that’s probably why this was on my mind.
I don’t say this so that my friends can rise up and assure me that I am
terrific mother. I know my heart and I
know I could do better. Since they came,
I’ve been grouchier as they tested me (as I knew they would) and as my days got
even busier. While I very quickly
learned to love the girls, it wasn’t the same,
instantaneous love I felt for the boys.
I felt guilty about that. I felt
self-conscious at times, (and still do) wondering if I’m being judged by the
entire black community (like it really matters, but somehow, it does). At times, early on, I even felt resentful of
the girls, even though I sought them, not the other way around! And then of
course, Paul died and I haven’t felt like the greatest at anything for the past
8 months, but especially at parenting.
These myriad of feelings have lead me to believe that the girls could
have done a lot better.
But I had this sudden
thought this week. We got pregnant four
times, super-easy. Of course, we lost
the last one and then entered a long, long, long period of secondary
infertility. I pondered that. It was just weird that I could have babies
almost at will and then I suddenly could not.
Why did that happen? Then it hit
me.
God was saving Lizzie
and Ellie for me.
Had I not had Sam so
much later, it’s doubtful I would have ever pursued adoption. God needed me to be in a place to adopt at
the same time that these two little girls would need a new mother.
It was the most
sobering and deep thought. God picked me for the girls. And vice-versa, of course. If that’s the case, then perhaps I do have
the skill set necessary for properly parenting them? Perhaps then, time will even out some of
these bumps and I will grow into the mother that the girls really do need? I hope so. A better way to say that might be that God will give me the skills needed to parent the girls.
Maybe this will be the basis of my article that I need to write. Really, really soon.
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Sam has had a few
gems this week that I’ve jotted down. I’ll
wrap up this super long post with them.
This is what happens when I’m too busy to sit down and blog!
When I got home last
night I went into Ben and Sam’s room to get out Ben’s clothes for school and
Sam was still awake. I tucked him in again and
took off his glasses and he sighed, “David doesn’t do a very good job at
tucking people in!”
This morning as he
headed down the stairs to pick up his bedroom, a daily chore, he commented, “Basically,
I’m the butler of my bedroom because I’m the only one who cleans it!” I’m wondering where he learned the word, “butler”!
Tonight I was warning
Lizzie about standing on the table bench in the kitchen. She bumped a picture hanging on the wall
behind her and it was swinging wildly.
Sam then pointed out my fiestaware on a shelf directly above the picture
and told Lizzie, “Mom will not be happy if you break those dishes. They’re the most special thing to her!” I was relieved to hear him add, “Except us –
we’re more special to Mom.”
Maybe they are catching what I hope I’m
conveying. Maybe despite my many
failures and lack of patience and understanding, they have caught what matters.
They’re all “more
special” to Mom than anything else in the world.
Wow, very profound thoughts on the adoption.
ReplyDeleteReally, none of us are perfect moms and I promise you if I lost my husband, I would be a wreck for quite some time. I'm sure I would care for my kids but the reality is, the whole situation is HARD. Hard for you, hard for them. Don't be too hard on YOURSELF.
I often wonder if I'm doing a good enough job with my kids and I am not a widow and all the kids are bio kids (and I point that out because that means the children didn't come with the heartbreak of losing their first family...I totally think adopted children are just as wonderful and precious as bio kids.)
I have to admit your GYN docs comment about "being fertile 'til 52" was both funny and frightening. I have many friends who don't use birth control at all, and none of them are having babies past 50. I'm 44 and 5 months pregnant and even THAT is unusual in our community. So I guess while it is possible to be fertile that late, it doesn't seem very likely. Not, like you said, that it matters right now. That was kind of an odd statement but I'm sure she was reeling from knowing you'd lost your husband in the last year.