Showing posts with label suckitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suckitude. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Heartsick

Today I learned of the death of a beautiful little girl. One of my fellow Blog Nosh editors is Heather Spohr, who has chronicled her difficult pregnancy and life with her husband and darling premature daughter on her blog The Spohrs Are Multiplying. Madeline Alice Spohr passed away yesterday, sometime after Heather tweeted from the hospital, "They are going to intubate her. I'm freaking out." I rarely pray, because I'm not sure who I'm praying to, but sometimes when things get scary I fall back onto my Catholic upbringing and find myself repeating the Lord's Prayer over and over, just sending it out there in case it might help. I did it the morning of 9/11/01, I did it when my dad was in surgery, and I found myself doing it last night after reading that tweet. The terrible news about Maddie stopped me in my tracks this morning. I forget after 9 years that Pepper was a preemie, too - 6 weeks early - and so I made my way over to Maddie's March of Dimes page to make a donation. I urge anyone who reads this to do the same. I realized I hadn't posted anything in a week, and while looking for something to post, I found a draft I started last month titled "Heartsore" about all the ways I am worried for my daughter. She and I have been having a difficult time lately. She is grumpy and whiny and ungrateful and I am often at a loss how to deal with all of these negative emotions. As you might expect, re-reading it after learning of Maddie's death flipped my perspective. I have a beautiful 9 year old girl, smart as a whip and full of neurosis and overflowing with emotions, and I am so grateful. So lucky. And that is what I will tell her tonight when she starts yelling at the computer or whining about bedtime or making faces at the dinner I have prepared for her. I'm going to tell her, "I'm so lucky to have you." She'll probably think I'm teasing her at first, but I won't be, and by the time she falls asleep tonight, I'm going to make sure she understands how much I mean it. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake her up for school and she will groan at me and whine about brushing her hair. It will all start all over again, the crying and the lecturing and the love and the anger, and it is difficult to put into word how grateful I am for that.

Monday, March 16, 2009

We'll Do It Again Next Year, Only Better.

So, the BSAICBA is over for the year. We went to the tournament, did our thing, and now we are done. I'm proud of the kids and what they accomplished, and very frustrated with myself that I didn't leave them enough time to embellish and polish their work, and am chalking the whole thing up to being a huge learning experience. Mind you, I was in tears myself after the whole thing was over, fretting that I had failed the team, but I also learned a ton from participating for the first time. It was totally heartbreaking at the end of the day to see my kids drift off with their parents, tears in their eyes. Two days later, I'm still feeling bad and guilty that I didn't guide my kids better this year, but as usual, Dr. V.'s even shittier day has put my failure into perspective. That morning, while I was organizing the kids and giving them pep talks, he was in a hospital room lending support to a family friend as she authorized the hospital to terminate the life support on her brother. The family had made the decision the night before, and the rest of the relatives are out of the country, so he offered to go up there and be with her when they turned everything off. So I will do a much better job next year, and thus the kids will hopefully do better. Dr. V. will continue to do quietly heroic things for others, and I will brag about him here because it's the only place I can talk about it. I will continue to fret about the big and small things that make me feel like a failure, but then the sun will shine and I will go for a walk in it to shake off the sadness. Which is what I'm going to go do right now.

Monday, September 22, 2008

I Don't Want To Talk About It

It's rough around here these days. I think things are getting better, but then we have an awful, awful night. I try to stick with the routine, but the routine isn't working, and it gets blown to hell each evening anyway. Thank God for the therapy session we have scheduled later in the week. I'm so disheartened that I don't even want to talk about it, or think about, right now. If you knew me in real life, you'd know how rare that is. I'm usually pretty yappy, but not today. It's an odd feeling when you have a blog where you pour out your secret inner life, and then suddenly you feel that if you don't put a cork in it, that swelling emotional tide, you won't be able to function.