Endings

I wasn’t really in the mood to write tonight.  I just sat down to check email.  And then, just a few words from a friend triggered a reflective, sentimental, and peaceful feeling in me.  And of all things, that feeling is about endings.

It’s the start of back-to- school time around here and that is a beginning.  New beginnings, or even repetitive beginnings, can trigger those butterflies in the tummy, those sweaty palms, and the uncertain anxiety.  After that initial response, however, beginnings are generally regarded as good stress.  It’s how we move forward, how we grow.  Beginnings leave us with a positive image and connotation.  I think of new friends, new challenges, new opportunities, of firsts with my loving hubby and my kids, of all the places I would have never been without a beginning.

Tonight’s email was from a friend facing an ending.  A loved one is in hospice care and will not be with us on this earth much longer.  And aware of that, they struggle.  They struggle with how to balance the joy of a long, fruitful life with the reality of the infant this man is now.  The face the cold, hard job of taking care of someone that by nature, and position as father and grandfather and his other roles, was here to take care of them.

And I grieve for them.  For their upcoming loss, for the difficulty involved in watching it, for the logistics of trying to be many places at once, for the hesitation we all feel in knowing what to say or do or how to talk about this all.  I share my thoughts and prayers as support for them, as they support each other and complete the basic challenge of getting through another day like this and another, and another…And then enters guilt!  Just because we humans get tired and stressed and exhausted from the struggle – it doesn’t mean we wish that loved one wasn’t here.  No God, please don’t misunderstand – that’s not what we meant at all.  In an eyes-half-open moment while changing an adult’s diaper at 3 am and seeing him in pain – our reluctance wasn’t a wish for it to be over!  It’s just human nature.  The most fundamental and basic of human feelings and emotions – and a reminder that the only way to survive times such as these are by the Grace of God.

I have fortunately lost very few people that I had a close relationship with.  But fortunately (oddly enough I mean that), my work has put me in a place to have many experiences with death and dying.  I’ve come to find a beauty in it – a rhythm, or a peace if you will.  I’ve had the privilege of sitting vigil with families in the midst of saying good bye.  I really do mean privilege.  They’ve shared their most private, most difficult, and most hurtful moments with me, as a nurse, as a caregiver.  My position brought me into those situations.  The connection I felt in my heart has left me with a huge respect for endings and for assisting people, as I am able, to experience that ending in the most helpful and most healthy way possible.

I’ve watched cancer kids rejoice that one more vacation was accomplished before the disease took over – or a graduation, or the start of kindergarten.  I’ve seen families start to process their time with their children as a GIFT – a gift of all the days and hours they’ve had – instead of having life stolen from them.  I’ve wrapped up babies who’s little hearts have stopped beating and let mommies and daddies hold them until they can feel their goodbye are complete enough to make the next step.  I’ve been present when we tell parents a baby so young, born so early,  just couldn’t survive, and we are amazed it survived those first 48 hours – and it must have been because he knew what wonderful parents he had.  I can still hear a deep, strong voice reading the Bible to his 24 week gestation son in his last hours.  We all drew strength from that voice – especially the baby.  His vital signs changed when his Daddy read to him, and hung on a little longer while they had that time together.

On a personal note, those experiences like the ones above, prepared me for a couple of my own.  I’ve talked to a Youth Group on the night of the death of one of their own, about how we will still celebrate graduation – and Adam’s life – and how we will celebrate those last great moments with him and for him as we move ahead and keep him alive in us.  And, most preciously, I’ve bent down and kissed my grandmother while she took her last breaths.  As I kissed her, and hugged her, I told her that I owed so much of what I had become to her and the wonderful, beautiful things she had taught me to do and to be.  I put my tiny baby son up next to her and let him lay in the hospital bed with her.  I had watched my daughters just hours before bring her a photo for Mother’s Day and sing a song they had learned at preschool for her.  She told them she loved them, and they, having the honor of knowing their Mamaw Jackson, told her and loved her also.  She was buried with that photo.

I will never say I enjoy the experience of death – but I cannot say that I fear it.  I revel in it’s beauty and in the peace that comes after we fully love and fully engage ourselves and fully connect.  And in that most primitive of connections, we, God’s people, share also the ending, with help and strength from Him and through those he has placed with us.

Quick Words

I’ve got a whole list of ideas of things to sit down and write about – but this post is not one of those.  This is a simple “I’m Okay” post to let my concerned and extremely caring fellow bloggers know that I haven’t posted in a few days for a really good reason – spending too much time getting back on our feet.  Ahh, relief.  The end of the funk is near.  Light at the end of the tunnel.  Sunny skies are starting to look sunny again.  I’m not spending all my time playing webkinz. 

Steve accepted a job offer he really wanted on Friday afternoon and went to get all the specifics rolling today.  I just got up after working my night shift, so I’ll have more details on that later.  HALLELUJAH!  He had also been working at some wonderful part-time opportunities, so we’ve been progressing steadily for a few weeks now. 

Our tax return came!  My home-based businesses really help out so it was a big return by our standards and it allowed us to get caught up! 

Brady remains potty-trained.  Harper hasn’t cried at kindergarten in weeks.  Keely’s working on her anger, maybe making some improvements, but has the largest heart you’ve ever seen regardless.  Marlee is still very pre-teen, but TALKS to us easily.  I mean really talks.  Tells us what is going on, what worries her, shares her feelings, etc.  Something’s going right there. 

Work is great.  I have a new primary baby I’ll refer to as J-bug (her mom gave me permission to do that).  She just crossed the 3 pound line at 5 weeks old.  She’s precious and my work with her and her sweet family is very rewarding, sometimes quite challenging. 

So I have no complaints, only blessings.  Progress.  As in the past, it has taken me completely handing over control to God to get here.  And I don’t hand it over easily.  He basically has to pry it out of my hands for me to really see that I have to be willing to be faithful and open to possibilities I might not have considered.  Once again hope and grace have swooped in and made us realize how absolutely loved and blessed we are. 

Our friend who attempted suicide a few weeks ago (see Truth Hurts) tried it again last week.  He didn’t succeed, but his family is tearing apart.  His marriage can’t survive this one.  Folks we love are in crisis.  They need our prayers and attention. 

For all of you who shared your struggles too, perhaps my slow, steady progress and those crucial baby steps can remind you that we are all in this together and that there are brighter times ahead. 

The Houkhouse now moves forward to use our flexibility and creativity again to accomodate new schedules, a new job, an new routine, and new challenges, struggles, and blessings together.  I couldn’t pick a great group of folks to share it with. 

Overwhelming Support and Other Natural Anti-Depressants

Wow friends, thanks for the insight, the ideas, and the support you all offered through those comments to my last post.   My wheels have been starting to turn very slowly, and writing that post was as therapeutic as it gets.   I started typing comments to address what I learned and gained from your comments and I found I  had too much to say, so I decided to just go ahead and post my rambling thoughts here.   I’ve inserted some of the comments I’m responding to. 

I love the way you all related in such a personal way. like this:

 “You know, I was doing okay until I got to the bottom of your post but when I read “Hubby … It must be hard to have your biggest fan be such a pain in the butt sometimes. I have un-dying faith in you …-.” That’s when the tears came! UGH! I can so relate to that statement. I know that I’m a pain in the butt to my husband sometimes (maybe a lot of the time?!?!) and we’ve been through some very bad times but just like you said, I love him so much and wouldn’t trade my life with him and my kids for anything”

 Well, we are in good company, because I cried writing the post, and it started a nice long cry that makes you need an eye-makeup artist by the next morning.  That’s okay.  It was good.   It was needed.  Hubby read it and it helped him understand me.  I must agree with momlovesbeingathome who wrote that comment.  Admitting that weakness when I need to support him the most was a really difficult piece of that post.  That is when I really lost it – when I realized I just wasn’t capable of being the support I wished I was. 

Joni – thanks for sharing those ideas about functioning. 

 “I would have days where I’d literally wake up and negotiate myself out of bed. I’d think, “ok, in the next 60 seconds, all I have to do is put my feet on the floor. For the next 60 seconds, all I have to do is get up and go to the bathroom.” And step by step I could get going.”

Those very specific examples made me relate to an even more difficult time and brought back some more memories and tears – but healthy ones.  Those thoughts initiated a conversation between Steve and I and both of us remembering, “we’ve been through worse”. 

I appreciate all the prayers and hopefulness tremendously. In all your individual ways, you offered love, camaraderie, support, personal insight, inspiration, even a compliment or two, and concrete ideas.  I love it – thanks. 

 “Writing is a great start, getting out and breathing some fresh air. Wake up in the morning and create your day, visulaize what you want to happen. Find someone else in a funk and cheer them up, can’t stay in a funk when you have to cheer someone else up”— tobeme

“I too am going through a rough time as well, a lot of things you wrote hit close to home for me. I just pray that soon I can see a sunny sky! I will be praying for you as well!” — lifelemons

“As always, you have provided me with great clairity and inspiration. Perhaps you can find comfort and support knowing how much you always inspire and help me. I dedicated my post today to you.” — onehappymom

For those of you that are currently in a “funk” like the one I’m giving it my all to get out of, or those of you that are facing life challenges as well, gosh, I appreciate you being so open.  I love this blog thing and now we do have a group that can help hold each other up.  There’s strength in numbers and I’ll think of and pray for you as you have so generously offered to do for me.

“Things often look bleek. But remember TOMOROW is another day.  ”         — turtlesbirds

” Here is to your husband getting the right job at the right time – the job he is meant to have – and to you being able to turn the corner on this funk.”      — mamadoggylove

And, dragonmommie – I am certainly nursing myself tonight as you suggested.

” I do not try to deny it is happening. I plan the time for myself to be depressed, if that makes any sense. I will spend a weekend or a few days at the most to nurse myself… when I can feel sorry for myself. I think we need that time to step back from life”

 I’m going to get out of the house and play a little bunco with other females.  You are so, so right that we have to take time out.  If not, the time in becomes much less effective. 

And, one last thought regarding Joni‘s words about raw prayer: 

” This sounds trite but prayer helps me. But it has to be raw genuine thoughts. Not the shoulda’s. You know the kind “God I’m scared we won’t be provided for but I know I should be grateful…” When I come clean to God in prayer, my ability to trust him grows. Don’t know how that works. I’ve actually said I didn’t trust that he would provide even though I’ve seen it before. And then asked for more faith or a glimpse of what He’s planning for peace of mind. “

WOW – that was deep and so painfully truthful.  I’ve kept my “Suzy Sunshine” act up, even with my prayer.  Not last night — after reading your post, I realized I haven’t even allowed myself to go to those raw, even ugly thoughts with God.  But it is soooo cleansing to admit that.  To say, “God, I’m trying to believe and have faith here and so far there’s nothing!  ”  Being that honest – woah.  I went to sleep with those kinds of prayers last night and I have to tell you, I woke up with a brighter outlook.  Today was a new today, and tomorrow is another brand new one, too. 

Peace, love, blessings, gratitude, and the strength to hold up through working it all out to you all.

Hi God, whatcha doin’?

When we are young, we take our beginning foundations of religion from our parents.  And as we grow, we test and question and search and begin the long process of formulating our religion, our spirituality, and our own faith.  As an adult, we can look back and remember that process and visualize some of our steps along the way, but otherwise, it becomes somewhat far removed.  And then, some little person helps you remember.  They let you in on their faith journey and by watching and experiencing it with them, your remember your own and you see your new responsibility in helping them in this awesome task of forming their individual faith.  Woah.  And we thought potty training was hard. 

Harper is in the very active stages of forming his first beginnings of an individual relationship with God and starting to understand faith.  “Tell me about God,” he says, as if he’s asking me to read him a story.  He doesn’t seem to tire of it.  He wants to know more, more, more.  And he asks questions about all the hard stuff, therefore challenging Steve and I to explain. 

“How did God make us?”

“Why did God make mean people?”

“Where is God, can I see him?”

You might think you have a good grip on Bible stories and religious teachings, until you try to put them on a 5 year old level.

“How do we know God is here if we can’t see him?”

Many have suggested that kids need to come with instruction manuals.  That’s a great idea.  I’d like for there to be a section, or perhaps an entirely separate book on religious teaching instructions, including how to mold wonderful children of God into faithful, Christian followers.  I just know it would stay on the best seller list.  But there’s not an instruction manual.  And the Bible doesn’t have a kid question/adult answer section.  So there we are, relying on our own faith to take over and show through and praying silently for the right words to come out of our mouths. 

Harper does best if it is in story form.  We’ve found some cute kids’ versions of Bibles, and hero books, and prayers.  I think, if I understand his explanations correctly, God to him right now is like his favorite super hero.  I think that works for him. It’s pretty darn close to true, at least in the 5 year old realm of reality. 

And since Harper has taken this storybook approach, he’s developed a more personal relationship with God than I expected.  His prayers are more of a conversation. He just chats with God.  He’s developed a comfort level and closeness that many adults strive for.  His grasp of “pray without ceasing” is impressive.  He just talks to God anytime he wants, includes him in his life, makes him a part of what’s going on.  His faith in formation is an incredible example for the rest of us.  It encourages us, no more like forces us, to examine our own relationships with God.

In true Harper form, here’s an example of his prayers from the last few bedtimes.  Brady’s followed suit and his prayers are the total example of pure childhood innocence and wonder.  I’ve put some of them together here.

Harper:

Hi, God,whatcha doin’?

I had a good day today at school.  I miss Mommy, but I didn’t cry.  Teacher tell me I did good job on my papers.  I read Mommy my papers and watch kid shows and she rub my feet. 

I had so good p-nut butter and jelly to eat, with pretzels, and a gogurt.  I no like carrots.  ‘Member that time, mommy made me try it and I get sick?

I build a tent with Brady and we play spies.  Brady doesn’t share – he kicked me in the tummy. 

One more day of school and then two days at home.  We do lots of fun stuff.  I want to go back to Disneyworld.

Thank you for my family and Murphy dog and Bubba the binnie big (guinea pig). 

A-men

Brady:

Sank (thank) you for my sand’ich, my fries, my ketchup, my napkin, my water, and my plate.

I brush my teeth and put on jammies. 

Sank you for Mommy and Daddy and Harper and Marlee and Mommy and Keely and Daddy and Harper and Mommy and Murphy and Marlee and all my samily.

I go back to Disney World and I ride Goofy Rides and Buzz Lightyear. 

I have fun at school today and I not cry. 

Aaaaaa-meeeen

And that’s called really sharing your life with God. 

From the outside looking in

I have one of those jobs that makes people often say, “Oh, I could never do that…”  I work with sick children and have now for almost 16 years.  My first years as a nurse were spent working with pediatric cancer patients.  It even makes me have an awestruck response every now and then, but more about that later.  Now, I work with sick babies in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  Most folks associate this with preemies, and while that’s true, we get critically ill babies, early or not.  Sometimes it’s a full term baby that just had a rough delivery, or sometimes, it’s a 24 week pregnancy with a baby just over a pound, teetering on the edge of life.  It has its variety and it has its challenges.   I continue to say that “Real Nursing” is the kind where it’s not so much about the paycheck, but much more about real life.  Dealing with genuine people in true crisis and having empathy and respect for them.  Trying to see if from their side of the bed, or isolette (incubator to most of you), if you will.  That’s the part I really love – trying in some small way to help other humans through this craziness.    Moms start motherhood with concern for everyone else.  They’ve been pregnant for up to 9 months, with many rough days.  They’ve just contracted, pushed, delivered and are completely worn out.  They are still bleeding, often in the process of being sewn up and they are instantly worried about everyone else, baby first.  I have the privilege of working with Moms and babies in a couple of different roles.  In one, I assist midwives with healthy baby deliveries in an alternative birth-center setting.  Those moms are all low-risk and are on the really healthy end of deliveries.  They’ve had to endure very few medical interventions and as a result, recover quickly.  Actually, they go home as soon as 6 hours later.  They are amazing!  They start telling Dad their sorry he’s been standing so long or that he had his hand squeezed too tight.  They tell the midwife they appreciate how long she’s been laboring with them.  They inquire if friends and family need food, drink.  They say things like “it’s been a long day for all of us.”  The experience that woman has just been through and there she is, nurturing everyone around her.  She shows very little concern for herself, other than a shower and a trip to the bathroom, and now it is all about taking care of baby.  It’s beautiful.  I cry a lot!   The downside here is that when anything goes different than planned or expected – who does the mother blame?  Herself.  It’s a really flawed system, but it’s inborn.  Moms have the gift of guilt and it is the gift that, unfortunately, keeps on giving.  I’ve been trying for a number of years to figure out how to take it away from them, but that’s the cruel irony, no one can take guilt away from another.  It’s an individual process and the only person who can free you from guilt is…you.  I’ve come to accept that and to understand that I cannot remove guilt.  My role is to help them process and work through it and hopefully increase their own strength enough to overcome their own guilt.  It’s complicated.   Just a few days ago, I watched a mom weep at her infant’s bedside.  He was born at almost 32 weeks, with full-term being 40.  He will likely do well, we just have to help him grow outside of her for several more weeks.  He’s around 4 pounds.  He can’t yet breathe well enough on his own to maintain oxygen for his little body.  We have a tube down his airway to help and he’s hooked to a machine, the ventilator, that breathes for him.  We control how fast, the amount of oxygen, how long a breath lasts and how much pressure each breath provides.  His tummy and intestines aren’t developed enough yet to eat.  We have mom save her valuable breastmilk in the freezer while we feed him with fluids into his bloodstream.  We use the vessels in his umbilical cord as IV’s.  There are tubes coming out of his belly button and that’s where the fluids and nutrients go in.  We also draw blood out of those lines, so we can accurately measure oxygen and other lab values from his blood.  While pretty standard for a neonatal unit, it can be scary to see.  I imagine that as a parent, it’s terrifying.  I’m fortunate to have only experienced it from the nurse side.    His mommy, the one who took such good care of him, agonizes and cries over what she’s done to him.  Her heart hurts and it hurts mine to watch her.  As tears roll down her cheeks, she keeps one hand on him.  She can touch him gently, but she won’t be able to hold him for days.  She talks about her blood pressure and that she tried to keep it down.  She did everything they told her to – bedrest, diet changes, frequent visits, restricted activity.  So why?  Why must her son now struggle so?  Could she have done something different?  How could I do this to him? – she asks herself and she says it aloud.  She talks about the two healthy babies she’s had previously.  She’s trying to prove she’s done it right before.  And now she’s trapped herself…if she’s done it so well before – why this, why now?  It’s painful to watch and more painful to imagine her misery.   I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer for her and one for me, that I might have some words that provide some bit of comfort.  That I might be a part of her healing process.  And then, I reassure.  I listen and let her get it out.  I hug her or touch her hand.  I congratulate her on a beautiful baby that is working very hard to get healthy.  I talk a bit about guilt and tell her I would take it away if I could.  I share with her that most moms, including me, are prone to guilt.  I offer her support and re-affirm for her that she did everything she could for him, and most importantly, it’s not her fault.  They are, true, just words.  But I mean them.  And maybe between she and I and all those others that support her, and this little baby that is working hard to get well, and God up above – those words will help a little in that process of removing her guilt.