"I knew for sure that I was loved" by Luther Vandross
5.20.2012
When I was a little girl, I knew that I was loved. My parents both loved me but my father's love was demonstrated every day by his actions. He would get up at 4 am to prepare a warm bottle of milk for me. He would make my breakfast and comb my hair. He would take me to school in the morning and make a hot lunch for me every day.
He used to have an amazing garden. I would sit and watch him dig and plant for hours. I had a little table and chair set up outside so that I could dissect worms or other bugs that he would find while he was working. In return, I would put the seeds in the neatly dug rows and fill the water can for him.
If I was upset after being bullied by the kids in the neighborhood, he would console me. I would sit on his lap and he would hold me tight while I sobbed. He would constantly give me words of wisdom and sage advice. He not only nurtured me but he also took care of all my needs. He had a really big belly that reminded me of Santa Claus. He was my own personal Santa Claus and I never wanted for anything even when he could not afford it.
He was always there for me.
I knew that I was loved unconditionally, especially when I made a mistake. One day when I was 7 years old, my father asked me to get him a hot dog out of the "ice box". I said, "No!" He spanked me but then he sat me on his knee and cried. He said: "I don't ever want to hit you but I need you to obey me. I will never ask you to do anything that will hurt you." He never had to spank me again.
This kind of unconditional love is the foundation for every well adjusted child. They need to know that their parents will be there for them. Infants need to know that someone will pick them up if they cry. Babies can not articulate their needs. They do not know how to say, "My diaper is wet, I need some milk or I need to be held just to know that you care." I sometimes shutter when I hear pediatricians say "Let them cry themselves to sleep", without saying, "After you make sure that all of their needs have been met".
All human beings need to be held and loved. A hug goes a long way towards solving many problems. Not a superficial hug but a real hug that lasts more than a second. The kind of hug when you can hear the other persons heartbeat. I always give hugs like that to my children every time I see them. I want them to know that they are loved unconditionally. I want them to know that if they make a mistake, I might yell for a short period of time but I will hug them longer.
When my children were very young the challenges that I was presented with were at times insurmountable. When my oldest was born, she was a month premature. Her sucking reflexes were underdeveloped and I had to pump my breast for a month before she got the hang of breastfeeding. She became jaundiced after getting home from the hospital. My mother, husband and I took turns holding her because if you put her down for more than 5 minutes she would start whaling and crying uncontrollably. I was already exhausted from the 44 hours of labor that I endured without any anesthesia. I sometimes started to cry when she could not suck my breast properly after 30 minutes of trying and crying. I would then have to endure the pain of the pump. If you have ever breastfed, you know what I mean. This is unconditional love.
It would take all of my mental control to not shake the baby. I know that so many mothers have just lost it when they do not have adequate support and their first child is challenging. I was so blessed to have a husband who thought he knew what he was doing. He had at least been the second oldest of eight children. He would take her when she started projectile vomiting and rock her ever so gently. I sometimes try to forget how hard it was with my first child.
It was so hard to get my first mothering job right that I wondered if I was really cut out for it. It is a good thing, that after almost 4 years, the memories of the tough times that I had with her faded. Amnesia for mothers is a blessing. My second child was so easy that I deluded myself into thinking that maybe having four children was possible and desirous. Luckily, the 3 months of bed rest before her birth reminded me that I was an old mother for the times. When I got pregnant with my third child, I was jarred back to reality when my doctor advised that I have amniocentesis. I feel blessed that I had three healthy children even if the oldest was a little colicky. She still has a lot of stomach problems today as a 24 year old.
You can never hold your children too much. You can never love them too much. You may worry about them too much, but that comes with unconditional loving.
I got up this morning before the crack of dawn to make sure that my daughter's flight home from her first year in college was on schedule. I wanted her to know that I was anxiously awaiting her arrival. I told her to text me when she boarded the plane. The flight has been delayed for at least 3 hours and my long anticipated "Mother's Day" with all of my children will have to be rescheduled. I am a little sad because I will not get to hold them all at once. I am happy, however, that they all know that they are loved unconditionally.
I always want them to know that they are loved for sure.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
The Invisible Mother
My girlfriend sent this to me for Mother's Day and I wanted to share it with you. I do not know the author of this wonderful piece.
The Invisible Mother
"It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel"; Is Jersey Shore on now?; I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
Some days I'm a crystal ball; "Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?"
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature-but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
1.) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
2.) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
3.) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4.) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does."
No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no hockey/soccer/piano/Scout/school meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My Mom gets up at four in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, "You're gonna love it there!"
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.
Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know....I just did!"
Author-Unknown(PS- if you know the author of this piece, please let me know. I do want to give credit for their writing.)
DAYM
So if anyone asks you, "What have you been doing?" My answer:"I have been building three cathedrals."
The Invisible Mother
"It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel"; Is Jersey Shore on now?; I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
Some days I'm a crystal ball; "Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?"
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature-but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
1.) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
2.) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
3.) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4.) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does."
No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no hockey/soccer/piano/Scout/school meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My Mom gets up at four in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, "You're gonna love it there!"
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.
Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know....I just did!"
Author-Unknown(PS- if you know the author of this piece, please let me know. I do want to give credit for their writing.)
DAYM
So if anyone asks you, "What have you been doing?" My answer:"I have been building three cathedrals."
My Other Mother
1/12/12
My mother-in-law had a massive heart attack in December. I am in New Orleans today doing what she used to do for me whenever I needed her. "Help Out". "Can I help you?" "What can I do to help you?" I feel so blessed to have a mother-in-law who gives so much to others. I am grateful to have the opportunity to help her out during her recovery.
My mother-in-law is very kind and gentle. She is easy to get along with and my husband says if a person can't get along with his mother then they are not worth knowing! I agree.
When I met my future mother-in-law, I was very nervous. I had spoken to her on the phone numerous times but the anxiety of meeting my fiance's mother was looming over me like a dark cloud. Would she like me? Would I like her?
I met my husband's family at a picnic to celebrate his cousin's 50th birthday. It was a continuous 50 hour celebration that began on Friday and ended on Sunday. I had never heard of a 50 hour party. I knew then that his family liked to have fun.
When I walked into the inviting backyard, I felt at ease. Everyone was excited to meet me and I felt loved immediately. I still feel that way today almost 25 years after that marathon birthday celebration.
How did my mother-in-law learn how to be so nice to her daughter-in-law when so many mothers have an adversarial relationship their children's spouses? My mother-in-law followed the example set by her mother-in-law. My husband's grandmother lived across the street from her son, his wife and their 8 children. Yes, I said 8 children. My husband is number two of eight siblings. My husband's grandmother used to help cook, clean, wash clothes, iron, organize drawers...anything she could do to help her daughter-in-law.
The village that helped raise my husband and his siblings also included an aunt, who was a school teacher and read to the children daily. Older cousins who lived across the street who helped bathe the children every night. Another aunt who helped comb the hair of the three girls.
When I said a village, I meant a village that all lived on the same street in the same small town near New Orleans. I miss living near my other mother. When my oldest was only 5 weeks old, we moved to New Orleans. I had so many extra pairs of hands that I never needed to go very far to find a babysitter. My husband's cousin from Pennsylvania volunteered to babysit as soon as we landed. My husband's sisters and brothers all helped out whenever they could. My husband's brother even moved with me to Chicago to help out with my oldest daughter, when I had to relocate for work while my husband finished his residency in New Orleans.
My oldest daughter was showered with so much love as the first and only grandchild for more than 4 years on both sides of our family that I wondered if she would ever be able to be alone by herself. In her first few years, all of that attention did lead to a little spoiled princess. She is now 24 years old and has grown up to be a pretty well-adjusted young lady. I guess you can never have too much love.
When we lived in New Orleans, my other mother came to our house every Tuesday and Friday to do whatever I needed her to do upon my return to work full-time. I would go and stay with my husband's grandmother whenever my husband was on call and had to sleep in the hospital. When my oldest could not get to sleep at night, my other mother and other grandmother would take turns rocking her or pacing the floor with her in their arms while I tried to get some sleep.
Today, I am cooking some low sodium vegetable soup for my other mother while she recuperates. She also likes the way that I roll her hair. We even went out to lunch at her favorite local restaurant for a heart healthy meal. Just the two of us. It was a very special treat for me.
I can not imagine having a mother-in-law who was antagonistic or volatile. I feel so blessed to have my other mother. I just can't call her my mother-in-law any more. She is too special to me.
Wishing that everyone could have an other mother who is so loving, gentle and kind...
My mother-in-law had a massive heart attack in December. I am in New Orleans today doing what she used to do for me whenever I needed her. "Help Out". "Can I help you?" "What can I do to help you?" I feel so blessed to have a mother-in-law who gives so much to others. I am grateful to have the opportunity to help her out during her recovery.
My mother-in-law is very kind and gentle. She is easy to get along with and my husband says if a person can't get along with his mother then they are not worth knowing! I agree.
When I met my future mother-in-law, I was very nervous. I had spoken to her on the phone numerous times but the anxiety of meeting my fiance's mother was looming over me like a dark cloud. Would she like me? Would I like her?
I met my husband's family at a picnic to celebrate his cousin's 50th birthday. It was a continuous 50 hour celebration that began on Friday and ended on Sunday. I had never heard of a 50 hour party. I knew then that his family liked to have fun.
When I walked into the inviting backyard, I felt at ease. Everyone was excited to meet me and I felt loved immediately. I still feel that way today almost 25 years after that marathon birthday celebration.
How did my mother-in-law learn how to be so nice to her daughter-in-law when so many mothers have an adversarial relationship their children's spouses? My mother-in-law followed the example set by her mother-in-law. My husband's grandmother lived across the street from her son, his wife and their 8 children. Yes, I said 8 children. My husband is number two of eight siblings. My husband's grandmother used to help cook, clean, wash clothes, iron, organize drawers...anything she could do to help her daughter-in-law.
The village that helped raise my husband and his siblings also included an aunt, who was a school teacher and read to the children daily. Older cousins who lived across the street who helped bathe the children every night. Another aunt who helped comb the hair of the three girls.
When I said a village, I meant a village that all lived on the same street in the same small town near New Orleans. I miss living near my other mother. When my oldest was only 5 weeks old, we moved to New Orleans. I had so many extra pairs of hands that I never needed to go very far to find a babysitter. My husband's cousin from Pennsylvania volunteered to babysit as soon as we landed. My husband's sisters and brothers all helped out whenever they could. My husband's brother even moved with me to Chicago to help out with my oldest daughter, when I had to relocate for work while my husband finished his residency in New Orleans.
My oldest daughter was showered with so much love as the first and only grandchild for more than 4 years on both sides of our family that I wondered if she would ever be able to be alone by herself. In her first few years, all of that attention did lead to a little spoiled princess. She is now 24 years old and has grown up to be a pretty well-adjusted young lady. I guess you can never have too much love.
When we lived in New Orleans, my other mother came to our house every Tuesday and Friday to do whatever I needed her to do upon my return to work full-time. I would go and stay with my husband's grandmother whenever my husband was on call and had to sleep in the hospital. When my oldest could not get to sleep at night, my other mother and other grandmother would take turns rocking her or pacing the floor with her in their arms while I tried to get some sleep.
Today, I am cooking some low sodium vegetable soup for my other mother while she recuperates. She also likes the way that I roll her hair. We even went out to lunch at her favorite local restaurant for a heart healthy meal. Just the two of us. It was a very special treat for me.
I can not imagine having a mother-in-law who was antagonistic or volatile. I feel so blessed to have my other mother. I just can't call her my mother-in-law any more. She is too special to me.
Wishing that everyone could have an other mother who is so loving, gentle and kind...
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday!
May 15, 2012
24 Years Old!
Where did the time go? After 44 hours of labor, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl at NYU Hospital, 24 years ago on this day.
My husband and I had gone to see the movie, "Moonstruck". Afterwards, we walked over to Serendipity's and ate the largest banana split that I had ever seen in my life. It was our last date for a long time. I did not get the significance of going to the movies before going to the hospital, but I get it now. We did not go to see a movie without children for 22 years after our first child was born. Unfortunately, I have had too many banana splits since she was born.
I can not tell you how much my daughter has grown and matured over the years in this blog entry. I guess you will have to wait for my memoir to be published. I can tell you that I am so proud of the woman that she has become. I feel blessed to have her as my daughter. You don't get to pick your parents or your children. But if I did get to pick, I would pick her(and my other two children as well). They have made me a "Proud Mama".
Thank you for being born. Thank you for being an amazing young woman.
DAYM
May 15, 2012
24 Years Old!
Where did the time go? After 44 hours of labor, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl at NYU Hospital, 24 years ago on this day.
My husband and I had gone to see the movie, "Moonstruck". Afterwards, we walked over to Serendipity's and ate the largest banana split that I had ever seen in my life. It was our last date for a long time. I did not get the significance of going to the movies before going to the hospital, but I get it now. We did not go to see a movie without children for 22 years after our first child was born. Unfortunately, I have had too many banana splits since she was born.
I can not tell you how much my daughter has grown and matured over the years in this blog entry. I guess you will have to wait for my memoir to be published. I can tell you that I am so proud of the woman that she has become. I feel blessed to have her as my daughter. You don't get to pick your parents or your children. But if I did get to pick, I would pick her(and my other two children as well). They have made me a "Proud Mama".
Thank you for being born. Thank you for being an amazing young woman.
DAYM
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Excuses and Explanations
1-11-2012
It is another day and a new year. Where did the time go? I had hoped to finish my parenting memoir last year, but life got in the way. Here is the explanation.
Less than 4 months after his first concussion playing football, my son suffered another concussion playing a pick-up game of basketball. He called me that evening and sounded groggy and very tired. I instinctively suspected that something was wrong. He was told by his doctor to put his head in a bubble wrap and never play football or basketball again. The doctor said he might be able to play baseball one day.
My son explained to me that he was tired. His speech was slurred and he sounded fatigued. He did what most teenagers do when they know that they have made a mistake; they lie. He conveniently left out the fact that he had fallen and hit his head, again. When he finally confessed the next evening after a 4-hour bus trip, he was in so much pain that he had to tell the truth.
My mother’s intuition is very powerful. I feel as if I am synced to my children’s pains and emotions even when they are thousands of miles away. I can’t explain it but I have a premonition or a feeling that something is wrong. Or is it that I can hear it in their voices? I love the fact that I know my children so very well, but sometimes it is such a burden.
The reality of the second concussion cut through me like a knife. I was afraid that he would have recurring headaches or that he may never be able to finish high school or, even worse, that he could be hemorrhaging and die in his sleep. I prayed that he would feel better the next morning. When he called I was relieved to hear his voice. He still had an agonizing headache and was sensitive to light and noise. I thought, here we go again. I told him to go to the health center. He stayed in the infirmary from Friday until Wednesday. I called a car service on Wednesday, March 30, 2011, to have him taken to his sister’s apartment, 75 miles away from his school.
I live 500 miles away from his high school. I could not just go and pick him up. I was so upset and stressed that my immune system shut down and I got the flu on Monday. To make matters worse, my second child was waiting anxiously to hear from the colleges that she had applied to but had not yet gotten a decision from. The day that all of the rest of the decisions came via email was on the Wednesday that I had to withdraw my son from school because of the second concussion.
Stress is part of living but add three children, a husband, a dog, an elderly brother, an elderly mother and a mother-in-law that I feel responsible for as well as my immediate family, and you can see why I had to stop writing. I just could not compartmentalize all of the things that I needed to get done.
So, on that Wednesday my daughter got not one, not two, but three rejections in less than 5 minutes. Whoever came up with the idea that sending out rejections via email was a good idea was not a mother. Rejection is a little easier when you get a small envelope in the mail. You don’t have to open it and read the “let me down easy” words. You just know that you did not get into your first choice. You would probably not get three rejection letters on one day either. Snail mail...is slow.
I had to console her and let her know that I was so very proud of her. I also told her how lucky she was to have four great schools who wanted her! She had been so mature when she said early in the college process, “It is not about where you want to go to school, but who wants you.” I am happy to report that a year later she is attending an amazing college that she loves and is perfect for her. Life really does have a way of working itself out in the end.
I was so sick from the flu. I am sure that the stress in my life added to my recovery time. I finally drove the 8 hours to pick up my son a week after he told me the truth. When I saw him for the first time after the second concussion, I knew that he was in a lot of pain. He had tried to return to some of his normal activities, but it was obvious that his brain injury was going to take time to heal.
Doctor Mom assesses the health status of her children to make sure they are making the right decisions. Do they need more hugs and kisses, or do they need an MRI? Analyzing the physical condition of your child is a talent. Some moms do not have the talent to truly assess a situation. They sometimes make life-ending decisions when a cold becomes pneumonia and a child dies. Yes, this has happened to a mother that I know. It is life shattering when you think that your child is okay but they are not okay, and then they die.
I held my son in my arms, I looked him in the eyes, and I felt his pain. I knew that he was unable to return to school. I knew that he was physically wounded and emotionally fragile. He slept for 16 hours a day for the next two months. The terrible thing about brain injuries is that you can’t see them on an x-ray like a broken bone. You do not see a limp from a fractured brain. Many parents push their children to resume their normal activities too quickly. Medical research has shown that a brain needs time to heal even when you can’t see that it is broken.
My son returned to school in the fall of 2011 as a repeat sophomore. He is doing fine. He made the honor roll during his first and second trimesters after his return.
I have a great excuse why I did not post for over a year. I was taking care of my son. Now, I can finally breathe and write again.
Ambition knows no obstacles except when a mother experiences the limitations that the responsibilities for her children place upon her. As a mom, the one thing you should stay focused on is raising your children to become healthy and responsible adults. Raising a child to be an independent adult is a real job. Don’t ever let any one tell you that it is not.
DAYM
It is another day and a new year. Where did the time go? I had hoped to finish my parenting memoir last year, but life got in the way. Here is the explanation.
Less than 4 months after his first concussion playing football, my son suffered another concussion playing a pick-up game of basketball. He called me that evening and sounded groggy and very tired. I instinctively suspected that something was wrong. He was told by his doctor to put his head in a bubble wrap and never play football or basketball again. The doctor said he might be able to play baseball one day.
My son explained to me that he was tired. His speech was slurred and he sounded fatigued. He did what most teenagers do when they know that they have made a mistake; they lie. He conveniently left out the fact that he had fallen and hit his head, again. When he finally confessed the next evening after a 4-hour bus trip, he was in so much pain that he had to tell the truth.
My mother’s intuition is very powerful. I feel as if I am synced to my children’s pains and emotions even when they are thousands of miles away. I can’t explain it but I have a premonition or a feeling that something is wrong. Or is it that I can hear it in their voices? I love the fact that I know my children so very well, but sometimes it is such a burden.
The reality of the second concussion cut through me like a knife. I was afraid that he would have recurring headaches or that he may never be able to finish high school or, even worse, that he could be hemorrhaging and die in his sleep. I prayed that he would feel better the next morning. When he called I was relieved to hear his voice. He still had an agonizing headache and was sensitive to light and noise. I thought, here we go again. I told him to go to the health center. He stayed in the infirmary from Friday until Wednesday. I called a car service on Wednesday, March 30, 2011, to have him taken to his sister’s apartment, 75 miles away from his school.
I live 500 miles away from his high school. I could not just go and pick him up. I was so upset and stressed that my immune system shut down and I got the flu on Monday. To make matters worse, my second child was waiting anxiously to hear from the colleges that she had applied to but had not yet gotten a decision from. The day that all of the rest of the decisions came via email was on the Wednesday that I had to withdraw my son from school because of the second concussion.
Stress is part of living but add three children, a husband, a dog, an elderly brother, an elderly mother and a mother-in-law that I feel responsible for as well as my immediate family, and you can see why I had to stop writing. I just could not compartmentalize all of the things that I needed to get done.
So, on that Wednesday my daughter got not one, not two, but three rejections in less than 5 minutes. Whoever came up with the idea that sending out rejections via email was a good idea was not a mother. Rejection is a little easier when you get a small envelope in the mail. You don’t have to open it and read the “let me down easy” words. You just know that you did not get into your first choice. You would probably not get three rejection letters on one day either. Snail mail...is slow.
I had to console her and let her know that I was so very proud of her. I also told her how lucky she was to have four great schools who wanted her! She had been so mature when she said early in the college process, “It is not about where you want to go to school, but who wants you.” I am happy to report that a year later she is attending an amazing college that she loves and is perfect for her. Life really does have a way of working itself out in the end.
I was so sick from the flu. I am sure that the stress in my life added to my recovery time. I finally drove the 8 hours to pick up my son a week after he told me the truth. When I saw him for the first time after the second concussion, I knew that he was in a lot of pain. He had tried to return to some of his normal activities, but it was obvious that his brain injury was going to take time to heal.
Doctor Mom assesses the health status of her children to make sure they are making the right decisions. Do they need more hugs and kisses, or do they need an MRI? Analyzing the physical condition of your child is a talent. Some moms do not have the talent to truly assess a situation. They sometimes make life-ending decisions when a cold becomes pneumonia and a child dies. Yes, this has happened to a mother that I know. It is life shattering when you think that your child is okay but they are not okay, and then they die.
I held my son in my arms, I looked him in the eyes, and I felt his pain. I knew that he was unable to return to school. I knew that he was physically wounded and emotionally fragile. He slept for 16 hours a day for the next two months. The terrible thing about brain injuries is that you can’t see them on an x-ray like a broken bone. You do not see a limp from a fractured brain. Many parents push their children to resume their normal activities too quickly. Medical research has shown that a brain needs time to heal even when you can’t see that it is broken.
My son returned to school in the fall of 2011 as a repeat sophomore. He is doing fine. He made the honor roll during his first and second trimesters after his return.
I have a great excuse why I did not post for over a year. I was taking care of my son. Now, I can finally breathe and write again.
Ambition knows no obstacles except when a mother experiences the limitations that the responsibilities for her children place upon her. As a mom, the one thing you should stay focused on is raising your children to become healthy and responsible adults. Raising a child to be an independent adult is a real job. Don’t ever let any one tell you that it is not.
DAYM
Happy Mother's Day
I know that it has been a long time since you have seen anything that I have written. I have an entry devoted to "Excuses and Explanations" that I will post later.
Today is the day that I decided to get back on the treadmill and finish what I started; sharing my parenting diary. It is Mother's Day and I have so many wonderful memories of my children on this day. Where shall I begin?
My son used to get up very early on Mother's Day and climb into my bed and snuggle right next to me. He would be followed by his oldest sister who would claim my other side. Finally, his youngest sister would have to find a place at the foot of the bed. I felt sorry for my youngest daughter because she was always the last to wake up. At 19 years old she is still a night owl.
They would watch my favorite Sunday morning news show with me, Sunday Morning with Charles...on CBS. I have watched that show so long that there have been two hosts both named Charles. The news show was always educational and entertaining and the children always learned something new. They loved to watch the final segment that features a scenic location somewhere across America.
Next, I would smell the coffee that my husband had made. The children would then run down downstairs. I was ordered to stay in bed until my breakfast was served to me. They would watch to make sure that I approved of the toast and eggs that they had prepared with a little help from their father. There would sometimes be a single flower in a vase on the bed tray. I was so happy and felt so loved.
Today is the second Mother's Day that I have not heard the pitter-patter of small or large feet. I miss the days when the children were young but I love the young adults that they have become. Next Sunday I will celebrate my Mother's Day when we are all together again for a day. We will have dinner, and I will be glad that I have three wonderful children whom I love very much.
Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers in the world! Enjoy your special day no matter when you get to celebrate it.
DAYM
Today is the day that I decided to get back on the treadmill and finish what I started; sharing my parenting diary. It is Mother's Day and I have so many wonderful memories of my children on this day. Where shall I begin?
My son used to get up very early on Mother's Day and climb into my bed and snuggle right next to me. He would be followed by his oldest sister who would claim my other side. Finally, his youngest sister would have to find a place at the foot of the bed. I felt sorry for my youngest daughter because she was always the last to wake up. At 19 years old she is still a night owl.
They would watch my favorite Sunday morning news show with me, Sunday Morning with Charles...on CBS. I have watched that show so long that there have been two hosts both named Charles. The news show was always educational and entertaining and the children always learned something new. They loved to watch the final segment that features a scenic location somewhere across America.
Next, I would smell the coffee that my husband had made. The children would then run down downstairs. I was ordered to stay in bed until my breakfast was served to me. They would watch to make sure that I approved of the toast and eggs that they had prepared with a little help from their father. There would sometimes be a single flower in a vase on the bed tray. I was so happy and felt so loved.
Today is the second Mother's Day that I have not heard the pitter-patter of small or large feet. I miss the days when the children were young but I love the young adults that they have become. Next Sunday I will celebrate my Mother's Day when we are all together again for a day. We will have dinner, and I will be glad that I have three wonderful children whom I love very much.
Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers in the world! Enjoy your special day no matter when you get to celebrate it.
DAYM
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