Saturday, April 16, 2016

Not all wandering means we are lost

I got asked this question earlier in the week:

"Can you let me know some differences (good and bad) about having 2 vs 3 kids?"

Hmm.
I did blog a little about this in the past, however I find the question so much more powerful and reflective, now that Brooklyn and our family have endured such a fresh journey.

Why did we choose to have three children?
Hmm.

The truth is, we really only 'planned' our first two. To be embarrassingly honest Ethan is quite the love child. No really, he was a thought in our minds, but he was not at all planned for and discussed in advance the way our first two kids were.

To most people, we had 'the million dollar family' already. Two children, one of each sex.
To the logical brain, we 'had it all'.

But here's the thing.

'Having it all' to me meant I needed one more child on the dock, in that classic photo I blogged about back in 2013.

To one friend it meant one little man and absolutely no more.
To another, it meant adopting four gorgeous little ones.
To a third, it meant two, but with a large gap in between.

The thing that ties us all together is this:
We listened to our hearts more, and our heads less.

Yes, having two children means life is more expensive.
Tables are more difficult to come by at a restaurant,
Post-secondary tuition will be outrageous.

But life will always be expensive.
And you can live with less.
Trust me on this one.

Restaurants are overpriced.
Food is too salty when you don't make it yourself.
And the best meals are always inspired by little helpers with big hearts.

And lastly, our children will never come out of school debt-free.
Its an impossibility, as I see it.
So we'll save, and we'll help. But they will also be responsible for their education and their future.

We listened to our hearts.
Not our conditioned minds, ego voices trying to 'protect us' from its perception of danger.

Having two children is 'easier' in many ways.
Less laundry, lunches to make and hands to hold when crossing the street.

But for my heart to truly be full, to feel complete in this stage of my life, I needed my wee man.

Perhaps because his bum shaking made me laugh when his sister was sick.
Maybe it's because his "I love you mommy"s watered my withering heart.
It's certainly because his presence, as loud and crazy as it is, kept our entire family alert and moving when all we wanted to do was hide under our covers and cry.

He was meant to be.
Three was meant to be.

And so, for any family. Any couple. Any single adult pondering these important questions.
The question of if, or how many children to have can most certainly be answered logically by crunching incomes, counting bedrooms and looking to social norms.

But the real answer lies deep inside the heart.
In the quiet before bedtime.
The alone time on the drive to work.
While out for an early morning jog.

"If you want to know where your heart is, look where your mind goes when it wanders."

Happiness is felt in the heart.
Not all wandering means we are lost.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

The first scare

Yesterday I brought Brooklyn (and her brother) to visit their pediatrician.

Ethan's breathing has been problematic.
Brooklyn was having acute pain in her lower left abdomen, which made my mama instincts scream.

The doctor recommended we go to the hospital for xrays and an ultrasound.
We slowly walked out to the van, I buckled the kids in and shut the door.

My heart began to flutter.
I wanted to vomit.

Thank goodness for retired parents, as they (without hesitation) agreed to take E immediately so we could head to the hospital.

Now what?
What do I need to pack?
Who do I need to call?
How long will we be there?

We left the office and managed to get to my parents house within the half hour, with a stop at home and at the pharmacy in between the two. As I unbuckled E, the tears began streaming down his face.

He begged to go home.
He clutched my neck.
His entire body wrenched with heartache.

Guilt overcame me.
I could not comfort my son in his time of need.
I had to leave him behind, knowing he was struggling with great fear.

Will I tuck him in tonight?
Will I be home in my own bed tonight?

Brooklyn and I spent about six hours at our local hospital. I re-told Brooklyn's entire story from start to finish three separate times, each time feeling more and more anxiety. Brooklyn was so angry to be there, but thanks to some colouring supplies gifted to us during her illness she was distracted while I recounted hospital stays, pathology reports and the like.

I kept telling her it was going to be ok.
She was going to be ok.

Truth is, I had no freaking clue if I was right.
And that scared me to my core.

What if there was a pocket of infection left?
What if we needed to travel back to McMaster that night?

Then the list making...

I need gas, groceries for the boys, an overnight bag....


The spinning, circle of anxiety began.
Post traumatic stress and painful memories flooded my heart and mind.

-------

The good news is this:

Brooklyn has a couple of abdominal wall hematomas.
She is also thoroughly constipated.
Both are manageable, non-life threatening situations.

The bad news is this:

I can't stop crying.
I am so so sad.
My heart hurts full throttle again.

I cannot figure out a way to function today, other than to sing the song Brookie and I learned in family yoga class. Sung more than 100 times by now, this song is an invisible tie that will forever tether mother and daughter together.

Inhale (breath in).
Exhale (breath out).
I say thank you every day.

Inhale (breath in).
Exhale (breath out).
Namaste.

Sometimes we just need to honour our tears. <3



Friday, April 1, 2016

Adjusting to Anxiety

This week I visited my local early years centre with Ethan. It's one of his favourite places to play, run around and engage in some classic circle time.

This time it was stressful.
Anxiety overload.

You see, Ethan has a dairy allergy.
Children were running around with cream cheese bagels in one hand, and a ball in the other. Milk cups were bouncing off the gym floor and goldfish became a fun snack to eat at circle time.

I could feel my body temperature rise.
My heart flutter.
My ego voice began screaming to take control of the situation.

Thankfully, Ethan is not anaphylactic.
He will vomit, acquire skin rashes and go TOTALLY INSANE for 48 hours if he ingests dairy, but to date he hasn't needed his epi-pen (knock on wood).

I acknowledge that other parents are not responsible for keeping my child safe. The other caregivers had no idea Ethan has a dairy allergy, and they should not be asked to refrain from bringing dairy products into the centre. (side note: can we bring back the snack table mentality? Hold snack time sacred? It is a great line of defence for allergic kiddos.)

The part that threw me off was that I couldn't 'check' myself.
I couldn't tell if I was reacting appropriately, or if anxiety was leading judgement.

My brain is still very tired.
My body still aches all over.

I've heard other cancer families call this 'adrenal fatigue' or 'adjustment disorder'. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it sucks. In some ways, being 'in treatment' was easier (I use this term lightly), as there was nothing to do but breathe and focus on the now.

As we step into the next phase of Brooklyn's journey, we are faced with worries about relapses, nerve damage and the awful, all too frequent nightmares both Jay and I have been living with.

This week has been a struggle for me <3
I promise to focus on gratitude and love in the week ahead.