The more things change…
Bored in Vernal (BiV) posted Writing One’s Life at the beginning of the month while I was on vacation, and she put another entry up today Wednesday. I thought I would post something from this week in a past year. What follows is the first entry in my journal dated July 2003-May 2004. BiV added commentary below her entries and I thought that was a great idea. They say imitation is the sincerest flattery and since flattery will get me everywhere it dropped me off at a new blog post–how cool is that?
June 2003 at my sister’s wedding
Saturday 26 July 2003
“If you will pay the price for success, you can avoid the cost of failure.”
It’s printed and posted on my wall, above my closet. When I sleep it’s one of the last things I see. On my door I have two lists that deal with having the Spirit with me (or not), a poster of the Savior kneeling in prayer “I will make room for Him” and a scripture from the Doctrine & Covenants urging me on. I need to read all of these more often. Right now, I am frustrated with myself. I feel I lack character, purpose, committment, a drive for excellence beyond mediocrity…truly the list could go on for a while. Yet I have been blessed beyond all measure, directed & counseled through my priesthood leaders (including numerous priesthood blessings)… I do not fully understand why. I don’t know why I’m not markedly better, it’s like I’ve hit a plateau and am sinking. I’m very event/end result driven I think. I can tackle a huge project like organizing pictures or dismantling/storing the crib, but the day to day tasks confound me. The dishes & the laundry & tidying up that will never be “done.” Maybe that’s why I enjoy being pregnant so much. It’s a big project! Seriously, not getting a mental grip on the “small stuff” is really hurting me and my family. It’s comforting to know God loves me even when I am disappointing both He and me.
“You know” is a word phrase I need to eliminate from my writing.
There’s a part of me that isn’t so sure I will be successful, that fears I will plunge headfirst into madness, miserable to everyone. I know that a fear of failure can keep me from even trying… I’m passing that unspoken message on to my children, unfortunately. I need to be more of the bold happy strong & faithful sister I have always yearned to be. There’s much to do, much to ponder. Too long have I slumbered, too much time wasted. Forgive me my reticence and I will go forward in faith.
♥
Téa
~Present Day Commentary~
The wall quote was replaced in late December with this gem:
“Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?!”
I’ve since rejected the lists of when you do/don’t have the Spirit. but not before I spent a long time equating my depression with complete unworthiness. I find that conflation hard to eradicate.
The sinking plateau imagery is one of Wile E Coyote on the cliff’s edge and how he is just standing on the rock as it plummets. He didn’t go running off the cliff but he fell all the same.
I’m not sure where the “you know” part comes from–the phrase wasn’t even in this entry.
The sad thing is, except for the room description, I could write something quite like this today and it would be an accurate description of how I feel most of the time. I would have to add *again* to the end ”plunge headfirst into madness” because I’ve made those dives since then. And the sinking plateau has been replaced with Sisyphean boulder rolling.
Methinks I need to create another poster of Gimli’s wisdom for this house. What am I waiting for indeed?
The Tale
Set the wayback machine for 17 May, Sherman.
Let me tell you the story
Of a girl named Anya
On a crazy yet joyful day
How she made her grand entrance
Charmed her mom and daddy
Convinced them everything was okay
(thanks & apologies to Jacqueline Steiner and Bess Lomax Hawes)
Thursday dawns a much anticipated day in our house. In the morning we load up the van and drive to an end of the year party at Makutu’s Island with our west valley homeschool group. We arrive early, thanks to better-than-average traffic on I-10, and I send the children to wait in the shade of the building until they open. Ephraim’s asleep in his carseat so I clean out the van for a few minutes, as best as I can with the belly anyway.
It really isn’t that hot outside, low 90s, but I can feel the heat taking its toll on me. I wake up Ephraim, unbuckle him, grab the diaper backpack, shut the door, lock the van and join the group milling around on the sidewalk. My lightheaded state becomes apparent and I end up leaning against the wall, weakly clutching my water bottle instead of Ephraim. He’s at my side most of the time, until the doors unlock and I’m quickly ushered into the air-conditioned building and onto a bench. When I return to a more normal color, another mom shows me where all my children ran off to and where I could put my shoes.
Makutu’s Island is a favorite in our family and has been for years. This time I wouldn’t be doing much of the crawling through tubes and tunnels or going down the slides. I stay in the toddler area with Ephraim, that is, as long as he does. When he runs off I waddle after him, occasionally steering him away from the bottoms of slides or heading off a dash to the door.
Come lunch time I love how everyone’s sitting in one place for more than a few minutes. Hard plastic child-sized chairs never felt so good!! I text message Richard to let him know that he was missing out on the pizza he could have had if he’d taken the day off to come with us. “Sounds yummy. Have fun–I love you.” Five minutes later–whoa–I have my first contraction. Ten minutes later I have another. And then another. I message Richard to let him know I’m building a pretty good pattern, and how was his afternoon going? My notecard started filling up with contraction times and pain levels. Hmmm, no reply from Richard yet.
I send another message. Then I call him and leave a voicemail. The time between contrax was shorter and I’m worried (that’s probably an understatement). I call again. I call his desk and leave a message. I even try his work cellphone (something I never do–I don’t even have it programmed in my phone, I had to look it up on his business card) and leave another voicemail. I’m going on two hours of contractions and I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I don’t know anyone else’s extension there in the office, but I try sequential numbers close to his. I ask the Makutu’s staff for a phonebook. The number listed goes to an automatic system, not to a secretary or operator.
The homeschool moms are very aware of the situation. Two of them are RNs and are strongly encouraging me to go to the hospital. I hesitated–not wanting to go without checking with Richard first. The last time I went to the hospital earlier than planned we had Ephraim, earlier than we planned. I don’t want it to work out that way–I need to have everyone there this time.
I keep calling Richard with no success. My phone starts the beeping countdown to no battery power and my anxiety goes up another notch. “Who’s your back up person?” they ask. “You should call her.” I do. Adrienne’s at work but she’ll be on the freeway in a few minutes. Okay, that makes me feel better. Kind of.
It’s decided–I’m going to the hospital. “Do you want someone to drive you?” they ask. I shake my head, no, I’ve always driven myself to the hospital. All five times. “Are you sure? How about if someone follows you there, just to be safe?” Okay, that sounds good to me. Then the next contraction comes. Suddenly someone driving sounds good to me too.
The next few minutes are flurry of activity. Children are assembled, shod and buckled into the van while I climb into the passenger seat and plug my phone into the charger. Kathy will be driving, Kimber will follow and give Kathy a ride back to her vehicle at Makutu’s. I just sit back and enjoy the -ow- it really is a good thing I’m not behind the wheel.
Makutu’s to Scottsdale Shea is a straight shot up the freeway, about 20 minutes, less than half the time it takes from our house. Another good reason to leave when we did, to try beat the rush hour(s). I almost cry again as I hear the sound I’ve been longing for–the ringtone Richard chose to personalize his calls. That random noise is music to my ears…
Hello there readers… No doubt, at this point, you are reading this entry and muttering epithets about Téa’s insensitive husband. I am that husband. Normally I love to receive phone calls from my wife. I love to talk to her. I love to hear how her labor is progressing, and I love to respond to her in encouraging tones that communicate that I have every intention of being there when the baby is born. There is a simple and compelling reason why I didn’t do this in a more timely manner on this particular day. Between the time that Téa and I exchanged messages about the yummy pizza, and the phone call referenced above, my fellow agents and I effected an arrest.
So, I was a little tied up helping to process this person and hold a strict policy of not discussing family business (such as the fact that I have a wife and children) with people that I arrest. Needless to say, I was not about to answer the phone to discuss the cute things that Ephraim was doing or anything else until I had finished what I was doing. At any rate, when I had a break from what I was doing, I got to check my messages and hear increasingly frantic messages about how my beloved was on her way to the hospital and understandably alarmed that she had not been able to reach me. I called Téa, let her know I would get there as soon as I could and called the agents I was working with aside to let them know I would have to excuse myself. I then drove back to my office, grabbed the warrant that authorized the arrest we had just effected and ran it back to the other agents so that they could transport the prisoner to the county jail. About the time that I’m pulling up to deliver the paper to them, Téa calls to check on my progress in getting to the hospital. I tell her something like “I’m coming along” because I don’t think it’s right to tell a woman in labor “I’m right back where I started.” After that I ran to drop off the paper and headed off to make some time towards the hospital.
Kathy drops me off at the main entrance, then searches for a place to park as I waddle in and turn down offers for a wheel chair. Kimber catches up with me and okay I guess I’m riding into the birthing center after all.
Three cheers for preregistration! It speeds things up just a little, because instead of my having to give them the information they get to go over it and make sure it’s all still the same. You know, in case I changed my name or birthdate or gender. Hello, I’m in labor, do I want to tell you what you already know? The nurse checks my progress–I’m dilated six centimeters and “have a bulging bag of waters”.
Kathy is keeping an eye on the children in the waiting area and Kimber brings them in two at a time to see me. I have an IV and all the wristbands and monitors, just waiting to be wheeled into the room and set up with an epidural. Adrienne shows up and Kimber tells me they’ll wait with the children until Richard gets there–Adrienne can take care of me for now.
Hello again readers… So, I make my way to the hospital, all the way abiding by something that resembles the traffic code, and manage to snag the only open covered parking spot within a day’s walk of the front entrance. I make my way upstairs and as I’m walking towards the women’s center I can see some children in the waiting area. Kimber, whom I have never met, says as I’m approaching, “That must be Dad.” Kathy, whom I had met before tells Kimber, “I told you that you’d know who he was when you saw him.” They direct me back towards the doors that lead me to the labor and delivery area. Indeed, the entire nursing staff seems to be aware of our plight as well, because some of them have relieved expressions and direct me to the appropriate general direction and room number all without my having to say a word. I arrive shortly after the epidural has been administered and then head back out to the waiting area to thank Kathy and Kimber, find out where the van is parked and take the children back to Téa’s room with me.
So here we are, all together at last, when the nurse comes in and asks everyone to leave. *sigh* I’m checked again and she calls the doctor to break my water. Everyone shuffles back into the room and Richard unloads our bags and sets things up. Drinks go into the fridge, snacks in the cupboard, the new Slayers DVDs up by the TV, cameras on the table and children’s backpacks by the window bench.
The nurse comes in to check up on me again, this time I let her know that everyone doesn’t have to leave the room. The contractions have slowed down a bit, which is good I think, gives us a chance to catch our breath, considering. Looks like the epidural is relaxing me too much, I joke. “You didn’t exactly have a pattern when you got here either” grumbles the nurse on her way out of the room. Richard looks over at me, shaking his head.
“I suddenly remember why I disliked some of our labor & delivery nurses”
The anime is doing its job of keeping the children content during the waiting period–even Richard and Adrienne are watching it. The doc comes in, breaks the sac, and this where things pick up for me. The next shift of nurses comes in (thank you Lord!) and I’m checked again. “Nine centimeters, you’re almost there!”
I’m feeling some pressure now, so I call for the nurses again. They bring the resident with them and somehow I’m back to a 6-7. Say what? I switch positions in the bed to see if the baby will shift as well. After 20 minutes of that I’m raring to go. I’m finally at the point where they will call in my doc. Except it’s not my doc–she’s on maternity leave. Oh well, not everything can be perfect, right?
Meanwhile, the television is turned off. We distribute cameras to various children, directing them towards the head of the bed on the window side of the room and telling them to stay there (with the exception of Ephraim, who is held by Adrienne throughout the birth because we all knew how much good it would do to tell him to stay anywhere). Nurses bring in extra carts with instruments and equipment and transform the bed into a birthing platform. Two med students ask if they can observe the birth. We’re okay with that as there are already plenty of people present. It’s reminiscent of the two nursing students who observed Duncan’s birth and helped the number of people in the room for Anya’s birth rival the number of people in the room when Duncan was born. (Incidentally, the two students sent us a card later thanking us for letting them be there.)
Then the doctor arrives and I am duly authorized to push. After three rounds of pushing it is apparent to the doctor and nurses that we have a baby with lots of hair, and that the hair might be red. Two more pushes get Anya’s head out and the doctor who is assisting our doctor gets to work on suctioning out Anya’s mouth before I push one last time to bring Anya the rest of the way into this world. She has a lovely cry right away and they set Anya down on my chest while they continue using bulb syringes to remove fluid from her mouth. They put the clamps on while she is lying there and have Richard cut the cord. Then they bundle her up so I can hold her while the doctors work on the afterbirth. Most of the children are snapping away with their cameras to capture the first few moments of their baby sister’s life. Elena had to be steered away from the foot of the bed a couple of times. She’s older than when she got to see Ephraim born and is naturally a little more curious. We got to explain to her that the part of the body that helped Anya grow while she was in the womb wasn’t needed anymore and the doctors were helping to take it away.
Shortly thereafter, Anya’s moved over to the infant warmer so that the nurses could bundle her better and weigh and measure her. Our junior press corps follows her there to watch and photograph her for several minutes more. Richard holds her for the first time and she eventually comes back to me. All the while, equipment and supplies are being cleaned up, medical staff are gradually filing out of the room, and the excitement of the evening distills into a sweet reality that we are now a family of eight.
happy two months Anya!!
Sobe & White Chocolate Chip Macadamia Nut Cookie Blogging Break
Now there’s a real catchy title!
For once, I am alone at the computer. Anya is sound asleep, snug in her swing in the living room, and the rest of the family is at the YMCA. I find myself with free time, me time, no urgent needs time. And you know what? I find myself at somewhat of a loss as to what I should spend this rare 90 minutes doing.
The time is so precious I don’t want to waste it. Is this the perfect time to rearrange the front room bookshelves and computer desks? Or should I spend time cleaning in the bedroom because I don’t have to be out here watching anyone? Finish yesterday’s NY & LA Times crosswords?
I set a timer (much like my high school creative writing & journalism teacher Mary did in class) sat down with my above mentioned snacks and clickety-clacked on the keyboard. Anya’s birth story would finally be posted tomorrow–when she’s two months old.
Mmmm… carrot juice….
I read so many interesting things this weekend, so well written and thoughtful that I felt, well, inadequate to comment on them. It seemed my words would only serve to dull the brightness the authors put forth. I once thought my talents included writing, and now I see all too clearly that it would take much work on my part to make my words spiffy enough to shine.
Mmmmm… cookie… me love cookies…
Honestly, I could make some of this free me time everyday. Everybody else over the age of one doesn’t have to be out of the house for it to happen. I don’t know that I’ll see the progress I’ll make–typically I’m the last one to recognize it. But if past trends continue there will be improvement of some kind or another. Maybe my wpm will increase–I could call that good enough.
Timer’s dinging, bottle’s empty, cookie’s gone. And so am I.
An Anya Apprisal
Monday July 09th 2007, 6:37 pm
Filed under:
Notable News by Téa
We visited our pediatrician here in Phoenix today, following up on Anya’s illness during our trip. He said it felt like forever since we’d been there =)
Anya weighs 9lbs 6oz, up a pound from when she was in the hospital, so there’s no question that she’s eating well and thriving that way.
Anya’s pulse ox indicates that she’s satting ~96 on room air, which is an acceptable level. Her lungs sounded clear too, so Richard turned in the oxygen tank this afternoon.
Our ped concurred that the heart murmur is quite noticeable at this point and was glad to hear that we already have a cardiology appointment set for Wednesday.
Anya’s eating and breathing well and right now that’s good enough for me. She can work on that whole sleeping for 4+ hours later.
Roughly 24 hours after we left Idaho Falls, Our travels came to end last night about 8:15 when our vans pulled into the driveway., but the longer than usual time wasn’t from long stops. We had two major interstate closures/delays that sent us onto the 89 for most of the trip. In the end it didn’t matter–we were home.
