DIARY OF AN UNWILLING WIDOW
Nov. 24, 2014
Day 539
I sat down at the computer
last night to blog. But first, I
followed a link to a fellow widow's blog and found myself so impressed with her
site that I immediately had to change my own.
Why do I do this? Why am I
incapable of accepting that I am, at best, computer-illiterate? Honestly, I've been doing good the last six
years to just get my thoughts from a Word document into Blogger. Why do I think I can compete with my more
tech savvy friends? As it turned out I
sat at this computer for over THREE hours working on my blog site. At one point, around 11:30 I was hyperventilating because I thought I had just
ruined my blog. I had gadgets stuck on
there I couldn't get off and now I was going to be utterly humiliated every
time anyone logged onto my site. I'd just
have to shut the whole thing down and start a new one but then I'd lose my readers
(you know, all three of them) and oh, what was I going to do? You know, there is a reason people design
websites for money. It's because
there are some people that are only good with words, not html type and other
stuff not understandable by mere mortals.
As you can see, I eventually
got it figured out - somewhat, anyway. I
got my daisy background, which I wanted.
I was aiming for something restful and healing. I may tweak with it a little bit in coming
days, but for now, it's done. I wanted
to get a picture of our family at the top and actually created this really cute
header with the picture - but it was too small and I don't know how to enlarge
it. Then, I tried inserting a picture
and it didn't look so good with the title over the top and then I tried it
another way and my title completely disappeared. I figured a title is more important than a
family picture so I gave up at about that point.
It was close to 12:30 when I crawled into bed - without showering, which is
something I never do. I HATE the feeling
of an unwashed body on sheets. I was so
tired, though, that I just shucked off my clothes, turned the heated blanket on
high and snuggled under the covers.
And found out that while my
body was tired, my mind was now awake, thanks to three hours of having to think
and be stimulated by the computer.
Ugh. On top of that, the wind was
howling pretty fiercely. Our garbage can
was set out by the alley for the next morning's pick up and since we had an
over-abundance of garbage this week (I cleaned out my freezers - I even found a
macaroni dish someone brought to us right after Paul died) the lid wouldn't go
down and it thumped against the side of the can all.night.long. So, I finally got up and took an Advil
PM. I knew that wasn't good since I had
to be up in 5 1/2 hours. It worked and I
fell asleep.
Until 2 am when I heard gligitty,
gligitty, SWACK, gligitty, gligitty, SWACK!
The icemaker was at it again.
The icemaker is in the fridge - well, the freezer - which is positioned on
the other side of my bedroom wall. It's
been giving me problems for months.
Sometimes it gets stuck when trying to pop out the ice. I even had someone look at and do some
research for me this summer. The end
consensus was that the fridge is 3 1/2 yrs old, fridges don't last for decades
like they used to, and LG parts are frightfully expensive to buy, even if you
can figure out what the problem is - which the guy who looked at it
couldn't. So I'm stuck with the problem
until the icemaker decides to totally die or the entire fridge takes a
dump. It doesn't do it all the time -
just in spurts. So, I had to get up at
2, poke at the icemaker, and it quieted down.
I went back to sleep.
Until 4 am when the icemaker
serenaded me once again. This time I had
the forethought to turn the thing off.
But when I stumbled out of bed at 6:40
to get Ben ready for school, I could barely speak, I was so out of it. I tossed a poptart on the counter, suggested
he wear a coat to school, and curled up on the couch, hoping I'd hear the
schoolbus in time to alert Ben. Then I
went back to bed - something I learned long ago I cannot do because I will
always fall into a heavier sleep. But of
course I couldn't because about 15 min. into my sleep, I hear heavy breathing
by my cheek.
"Mom? Are you awake?" No.
Go away.
"Mom?" Somebody had better just opened an artery
or smelled smoke...
"Mom? Can I play the i-pad?" I've changed my mind. None of them were "wanted"
children.
I had enough time after awakening to
get ready and then drive down to Ben's school to pick him up. I have applied for Disability for him since
he's now 18 and I had a letter in the mail about ten days ago from Social
Security telling me I had better show up at this doctor's appointment they had
made for Ben or he'd be denied.
I was immediately on the defensive
because the doctor had an Indian name.
It's not that I have anything against Indian doctors, but I never know
how well I'm going to be able to understand them. Some of them have very thick accents and my
hearing is deficient, anyway. I don't
always understand the stuff my own kids say, who talk in perfect American. Plus, I always am reminded of when I was a
teenager and suffered from near constant, debilitating migraines and one Indian
neurologist tried to tell me I was merely "stressed out" because I was a
senior in high school. And then there
was Dr. Gupta I saw over in Indianola a few years ago for some foot problem I
was having. I can't even remember what
it was - must have resolved itself. He
took one look at my feet, gasped, and informed me that my feet were
"deformed" and I needed to
have immediate surgery where he would break the bones in my feet to correct my
deformity. Uh, huh. I mentioned this to a nurse friend of mine
who demanded to know who this dr was.
She then said, "I knew it!" and informed me he was in the
process of being sued for doing this surgery on another woman and permanently
crippling her. Oh, I remember now - I
had plantar warts. That's what it was.
As it turned out, though, this dr
that I saw today was perfectly nice and spoke very good English. Still, I was blunt with him and said I didn't
understand why we had to see him (rather than our family dr) and that I was somewhat dubious of his
ability to make a recommendation concerning Ben when he doesn't even know
him! I became somewhat alarmed when he
mentioned that he didn't think Ben seemed all that "off"
physically. But we talked and he assured
me that he would definitely be recommending that Ben receive benefits. He said he thought that Ben's cognitive
deficits were more of a concern and I can agree with that. I made a point to tell him, then, of all the
ways I could think of that Ben's cerebral palsy does affect his life. I think I did pretty good, considering my
lack of sleep the night before.
I needed to run to Walmart after the
appointment for a number of things, but when I arrived at Methodist, I realized
I couldn't find my list anywhere. Then I
remembered that I had suddenly realized, while still home, that I had more gray hair showing than brown
and needed to remedy that ASAP, so I had written, "root dye" on my
list and I probably left it at home. I
called David, thinking he could read it to me, but he couldn't find the
list. Drat. It wasn't in my purse, couldn't find it my
pockets. I was going to have to go home,
find the list, and then drive down to the Walmart in Knoxville, further cutting
into my day.
So we parked on the third level of
the lot, and I decided to take the stairs down to the first level because I
need to do something to combat all my other unhealthy lifestyle habits. We did that and went to the appointment. As we were walking back, I thought, "Maybe
we should take the elevator since this time we'll be going UP." But then visions of Halloween candy and
birthday cake and ice-cream at bedtime floated into my head and I resolutely
told Ben, "We're taking the stairs!"
It's a good thing we did because as we approached the first step, I
happened to look down - and there was my shopping list on the floor in front of
the step. I don't know how many dozens
of people had walked right over that
thing or how it avoided being blown away when the sliding doors to the
garage would have opened and shut the multitude of times for the hour we were
at the appointment. I told Ben,
"See how good God was to save this for us!" He was happy because it meant we'd get to go
to a Des Moines Walmart. Walmart makes
him very happy. I was happy because I
could get that errand done and over with.
I just wonder how it fell in the first place. Where was it that I couldn't find it when
still in the van when we arrived?
*********************************
Will got my new treadmill put
together Saturday. Now I have no excuse
to not exercise. Well, I'm sure I can
come up with many excuses, actually! I
bought just a basic, manual, folding model.
I roll it in front of the tv and make myself walk. I need to.
I've been gaining weight and lately I just haven't felt comfortable
in my skin. I'm achy and out of
sorts. I am getting suspicious that
there is something hormonal going on.
I'm not sleeping well, either, even on nights that I'm not interrupted
by the computer, kids, and ice-maker.
Will also installed a fan in the
bathroom. He said he wanted to do that
and that sounded like a good idea to me.
I had no idea that he was going to put in something that ranks a decibal
level that's on par with say, a turbo jet.
Wow - so much for relaxing bath times and or slowly coming to life in
the shower first thing in the morning! I
may need to look into some sign language classes because at this rate, I'll
lose my hearing a little earlier than when I anticipate losing it with the
natural aging process. Like when I'm 47.
**********************************
Last Friday night added a few gray
hairs that I need to cover now. I was
supposed to meet Will in Ankeny at his employment to drop off David. They planned to go to some Christmas thing in
the East Village and then go see Joseph at the Civic Center. I was supposed to meet him at 5. I still forget how much Ankeny has changed in
the 25 years since I was student there.
It was SO busy the other night - total bumper to bumper traffic. I was so slowed down that Will ended up
having me meet him somewhere else. I
would not want to live there, that's for sure.
Then, I had to get back on I-80, go to Urbandale, pick up the Littles,
and then get back on I-80 and take it to 65S.
That's a trip that normally takes 15 min. during the weekday. So I just started praying that God would go
ahead of me and make a smooth ride without any traffic conditions that would
cause traffic to come to a standstill. I
was already late and I had to be down in Pleasantville by 6:30 at the latest
for the school musical Ben wanted to attend.
And He did. I arrived at the school with plenty of time
to spare before the musical. I assumed
it was going to be a packed-out event like the concerts always are, but it
wasn't. The kids and I had our pick of
seats and thoroughly enjoyed the students' rendition of "The Wizard of
Oz." It was good! Ben laughed a lot and the Littles were full
of questions about what they were seeing.
Will and David didn't enjoy their
show quite as much, though. When Will
and I went to see the Piano Guys in Oct. he saw posters in the Civic Center
advertising "Joseph and the Amazing Techni-color Dreamcoat." He thought it sounded good but I wasn't so sure - the title seemed to
indicate a potential for blasphemy, I thought.
So I did some research. I found
really great reviews - people praising how Biblically sound the musical is and so forth. Our local Christian
radio station started airing ads for it, too.
Assuming it was something like what the Sight and Sound Theater in
Branson offers, I bought the tickets for the boys.
The boys got home and just shook
their heads. They were put out that it
was only singing - not songs interspersed with acting. And, the musical was NOT Biblical at all, it
sounds like. Will said that Joseph's
dreams were of things in modern times like trains and cars - huh? And then they had Joseph in bed with
Potipher's wife, which did not happen, either! It makes me wonder what Bible all the people
who promoted this as being sound are reading!
What a waste of time and money...
********************************
Frustrated today...have I mentioned
how much I loathe dealing with governmental agencies? A few years ago I quit dealing with TMS,
which is the agency that provides transportation reimbursement for gas costs
for Medicaid members. I got so fed up
with them that I decided it was not worth the hassle. Well, then this whole Iowa City dental thing
for Ben came up and decided it would be financially best if I tried to jump
through their hoops in order to recoup some of the gas expenditure this would
require. I didn't do it for the first
trip and another trip I couldn't do because I didn't call it in in time (not
that anyone bothered telling me that I had to call at least two days before a
scheduled trip). But I did get a check
for one and I sent in paperwork for another.
Today I got notice that trip was being denied because they didn't have
an out-of-county request form. I took
care of that in Sept. and was told that it was good for six months. So I called them and was actually very nice
despite having been on hold for 15 minutes.
You get more flies with honey, they say.
They told me they never got the out-of-county form. I told them I took care of it and besides -
you paid me for one of the trips so how can you say you never got the form? Well, they replied, that was probably a
mistake. They tell me to get another
form. I say ok. After all, I have so much time to re-do
things! They'll fax the paperwork to the
referring dentist, they say. Oh, look,
they say - they already have the fax number and rattle it off to me. The number is off by one digit. I point this out to them and they say, well,
that could be why they never got the
paperwork back from our local dentist.
Could be.
Then they say that they cannot pay
me for the trip that's been denied. I
tell them, think again. I didn't make
the mistake - you did. I'll have
to check with my supervisor, I'm told.
You do that, I say. I'm on hold
for quite awhile longer, It will be ok,
I'm finally told, but I have to call back tomorrow and make sure they receive
the fax with the form. And no, I cannot
talk to this representative directly. I
can only phone in to the call center and explain everything
all.over.again.
*************************************
I'm finding that I'm more emotional
as we move into the holidays. I don't
think it's as bad as last year, but it still hurts. I just have zero anticipation for the
holidays. I want to survive them, like
last year. But I'm not excited about
them. That said, I did find the most
adorable ballerina outfit for Ellie on-line over the weekend. I'm going to hit the children's consignment
stores and see if I can find her some actual ballet shoes to go with them. I'm kind of excited about this. She is going to be so thrilled! I must be a good mom if I'm still willing to
make a good Christmas for a child that drives me absolutely insane most of the
time.
The other day I was on Facebook and someone had posted a meme
about how successful parenting will only happen when a father fully supports
his wife and she knows she has that support.
It was some quote by Dr. Dobson who I really respect in matters of
parening. If he says it's true, it must be.
I just lost it. I sat at my
computer and cried and cried. I'm
already more emotional because of the season and like I mentioned earlier, I
think I have some hormonal issues happening.
But it just touched a very raw nerve, too. I want these kids to turn out right so
badly. Having children that love the
Lord more than anything else in life is my ultimate desire. Nothing else matters. But I feel so inadequate to do this job
without a husband. How on earth can
children turn out ok when they don't have a dad? Most of the time I am just so tired,
worn-out, and defeated by the daily struggles of parenthood - feeding the kids,
transporting them everywhere, taking care of them physically, and keeping them from killing themselves and
eachother, that I feel like I am failing miserably. Single parenthood creates a burden like no
other. I never knew. I kind of feel like I am destined for failure
because I don't have a husband. And that
thought just tears me apart.
See, now I'm crying again.
Better go make some supper before
they start gnawing on the table legs...
*********************************
I'm still working on catching up on
my scrapbooking. Actually, my
scrapbooking group will be coming to my house for the first time in Jan. It only took ten years for me to feel like my
house was finally ready to host something like that! Anyway, last week I was working on my
pictures of the adoption more than a year ago.
I felt something powerful just kind of shake loose in me as I did
so. The day of the adoption was a good
one and I was grateful for it and have good memories of it.
But I was still so numb that
day. I had imagined this day over and
over in my mind even before I knew we
were going to pursue adoption. That makes sense if you know my whole story concerning the call God placed in my heart as a child about adoption. It finally arrived
but it was so different than how I had imagined it would be because my life had
just been turned upside down and in the midst of that craziness I was agreeing
to permanently commit to two more children.
I wouldn't have done it any other way, though. Those girls were mine from the moment I
received the phone call about them.
Scrapbooking the pictures I was just
impressed with what a momentous day it truly was. I didn't have these thoughts
that day sitting in the courtroom.
They're arriving with the distance of time. Legally becoming the mother of someone else's
children is huge. Because of
another woman's loss (albeit deserved) I gain the love of two little
girls. I am the one teaching them about womanhood, helping them develop
character, and pointing them to the one Parent Who will never fail them. I am the one who gets to tuck them every
night and hear their dreams and observations about life. I get to watch them grow into young women
some day and I will be the grandmother cuddling their babies. Adoption is so powerful, merging the two
events of Loss and Gain into one beautiful legal document that says,
They're
yours.
*********************************
Lizzie was helping me cook the other
day and asked if she could put some food into the
"smooshitizer." She meant the
food processer. It cracked me up and I
will probably always refer to it now as the "smooshitizer!" I just love it!
Sam pulled out his other top tooth
tonight. He pounded down the steps to
show me. I love that I am still the
number one person he wants to share his joys with. And I am totally loving his gaping smile
right now!
**************************************
I got an anonymous check in the mail
this week. Well, I'm pretty sure I know
who it's from, but they want to keep it private and so I will honor that. I was definitely grateful for that. But you know what pleased me even more? The envelope was addressed to "Mrs. P.
Heywood." That meant a lot. He isn't forgotten. I am still part of a unit, even if one half
is in Heaven.
**************************************
Ben did well at Sp., Olympics
bowling Sat, earning a silver medal. As
I watched him from behind, I realized, for the first time, how broad his
shoulders have grown. Maybe it's a
combination of parent-teacher conferences, his birthday, and IEP meeting all
this month, but I am just feeling so crazy in love with this boy of mine
lately. While at the games I was
chatting with the grandmother of one of Ben's teammates. Before I realized what I was saying, I said,
"Having Ben is one of the best things that's ever happened to me." I surprised myself by saying that. But what was more surprising was the
realization that it's true.
I didn't always feel this way. For years I grieved the loss of the boy I was
supposed to have. I felt like everyone
else had been given exactly what they wanted, while I was stuck with the broken
present. I loved him. From the first moment I spied his diaper-clad
body covered in tubes and wires as he fought for his life in that isolette in
the NICU, I knew I would fight for and
protect this baby with every breath in my body.
I remember begging God to spare his life, even if it meant I would bring
home a near-vegatative child. And then I
felt guilty for praying that. But I
didn't change my prayer. Many times,
though, in the ensuing years I would wonder why God had allowed Ben to
live. Wouldn't all our lives, especially
Ben's, have been so much easier and
better if he'd just been allowed to slip home to Glory where he would be free
from a body and brain with limitations?
Sure, I'd have the broken heart of a parent who has buried a child, but
surely that would be preferable to all that I had to deal with now.
The hurt of watching other little
boys his age jump, chatter, and play...while Ben watched. The nightmare of his eczema. Trying to keep
him from causing bodily harm to himself.
The tantrums. The tube feeding.
The dour specialists. Watching Ben live inside his own mind where I wasn't
invited. The odd behaviors. The violent
behaviors. His apparent non-emotion. The developmental delays. The allergies.
The worries about his future.
When Ben was little I didn't have
the network of fellow special needs moms that I do now. Part of that was on purpose. I didn't want to be part of that group. But when he was two I happened to be at
ladies' retreat where I met a lady who had a mentally handicapped teenage
son. I sought her out and I asked her,
"If God gave you the choice, would you take your son as he is or would you
ask to have him given to you with a healthy and whole mind?" She looked at me, perplexed, and said, "I
just don't know!"
Well, I know now. I'd ask for Ben to be exactly who He is, the
way God allowed him to be. I'd take him
with his quirky routines, and his excited jumping, his obsession with all
things Wheel of Fortune, and his still-messy eating skills. I'd take his big hugs, his fear of
"being in trouble," and the deep thoughts he writes for his school
papers. I'd take his still unclear future and my fears of being eighty-five and
still holding his hand in parking lots.
Ben, being Ben, exactly the way he
is - not as he might have been - is truly one of the best things to ever happen
to me.
I'm only sorry it took me so long to
recognize that.
