Last night, my heart was cut into a million pieces. I have come from a tough background. Last night threw me over the edge. My birth/marriage family has basically been emotional cold. Since Joy’s birth, I have been trying to get to a state of acceptance, move on and rebuild.
The surgery went okay on Friday. I don’t have too much information because the doctor came and I was out. My husband was called so all I know is Polyps were found and removed. I don’t know how many etc.. We had to leave at 5AM. The girls fell asleep. I woke up with a head cold. So, I just went anyways. I asked him to stay with me in case the hospital decided not to do the surgery. I got a bunch of snappy answers. My head clicked and I said forget this now. Our former marriage therapist told me he may be some underlining issues that I need to understand. I have not shared that back. I am trying to accept and adjust. He apologized and all. I just brushed off. Let the show go on, I will take care of myself!
I get to the waiting room. It’s packed with people and their family. I tried to bottle up my feelings of sadness. When I had breast cancer, those feelings of isolation resurface. My in-laws have my name, email address and number. My well wishes went to his cell phone not mine this time. Which brings me back to another matter. I find in this electronic age, my own sister will dictate messages through my aunt. I address this again. Auntie, the woman is almost 50 years old, let her call me directly. A few weeks ago, I called her directly because they was a shooting at a popular teen spot. In the middle of the frenzy, we didn’t know if anyone was shot or killed. I called to check on my nieces and nephew. No one was killed thankfully during the incident just shots.
Maybe it was the combination of my first daughter’s birthday/death anniversary, the fact it was called a “D&C” and the fight I had, I cried hard in the waiting room. I resented the procedure being called a D&C. I had been through a combination of 3 D&E/D&C. Emotions were raw. I was in and out to the bathroom trying so hard to bottle it up. It didn’t happen. I squeezed out one last call to my daughter’s cell phone. I learned the girls went home and fell asleep. They pregnancy tested me. I felt myself even through we are officially done daydreaming about conception. Oh well, it didn’t happen.
Friday, no pain. A string of messages perked me up. It was odd to be home and child free. Even the cold behaved, maybe I wasn’t really sick. Saturday, the day was a mess. My husband needs to manage Joy, our toddler. I can’t pick her up right now. Joy extends her arms. I don’t know how much she does understand. So, I tried to explain. I sit down. Joy go get a book. I will snuggle you and love you that way. Joy is a persistent little person. No, I want my mommy.
Saturday, raw anger was boiling. I wanted to finish that movie about the angels of our rare disease for Rare Disease Day. Hope practiced Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for weeks on her flute. Her bedroom is a mess, because we are trying to paint it. He is sick. I am sick. Hope is not feeling well. We went back and fourth trying to finish this movie. I posted a rough draft up. I was thanked by the one mother who submitted anything. Hope made slime and covered the kitchen. The cramps came and I found myself in a squat position with preteen upset with her failed slime project. Thankfully, my purse is well stock. I went to the basement room because I was ready to tear her apart.
Then, came this critique about the movie from a friend about the music and text. I was having serious cramps and my nose is burning. So, I practice a type of coping skill, which is like putting the ball back in her court politely. Okay, you have these ideas, so help me fix it. I watched the wording. Of course the answer was “I can’t do these things.” She texted me with an apology. For a month now, I have been trying to pull this off with little invested interest from the group. Again, I watched how I said this, but this one hurt. I have been there for years. I sent her messages when she was pregnant with her baby who didn’t make it and during her subsequent pregnancy, which was a healthy girl. I was heated. I sent a message explaining these things. I accepted her apology. You know she was one of those messages after the surgery. So, we are good today. She is still my friend. All fixed. It was a very thin line because I wanted to loose my cool. The answer is we are all living beings. To use old 12 step wisdom, I was a proud member of Ala-Anon for many years. I am grew up into a substance abuse counselor. “It’s about progress, not perfection.” The more I live. The more I understand, you need to be flexible in life. Perfection is something for TV show. In the real world those perfect plans are not always realistic.
Next year, just one movie for Avery and Addison. (Period the end.) I am done with my co-dependent slip. I am feeling better today. I hope we finish painting Hope’s room. Funny enough, she wanted this different color. I braced for it, because the room was originally painted for Avery’s nursery. It ended up, it’s the same color. It was a string of communication errors. One could say it was like the angel Avery just said no to Hope’s color choice. My husband has hearing loss. I am still trying to adjust. He swears I told him to buy the paint last week. What I really said was for Hope to think about it. He just saw something circle and brought it. Hope is saying it’s okay. It may be a few years before the house is sold. Let’s end it with, it’s about progress not perfection!