I'm still finishing finals so life hasn't slowed down much lately.
It's been a tough semester for me. In several ways. But most of all I've realized that the passion I had for the medical field has changed. If I could still be working in Pediatrics as an MA I would be. I miss that. But being a nurse is very different from that. I have been wrestling with what this may mean for my future and have made decisions that feels so much better! The main choice has been to go to an undeclared major. I've been meeting with the career office at the USU campus and have been getting a lot of help. I feel SO much better seeing all the options I have. There is even a test and survey process to help me narrow it. There are several classes I can take to help me decide as well.
There are other things that have been tough this semester. Accepting my reality that I cannot do all that is on my plate. I just cannot. I filled it too full and have suffered the consequences.
It has been really trying on my Spirit. But I am doing so much better the last week. I have a refreshed view of goals and feel like I am more prepared to tackle them. It's a relief!
I'm getting more nervous for NY and excited at the same time. It feels more and more like it is the exact place I should be. Love when that happens!
Christmas Season! Wow! Here it is! The tree and lights are all up and I love it. This time of year is special for many reasons, but I'd like to think that one of the best parts is how we treat each other. I love seeing how we show kindness when are perspective has changed. Christmas time does that to our hearts and I love seeing that.
All of these things involve change. There is a lot of that going on with me and I'm grateful that it doesn't feel scary. That I am moving along and OK with it. That I'm OK with who I am and why I am. I just wish that we all could exchange those same feelings with the rest of man kind. We're all in this together people, you really never know what an impact your words (kind or not) will have on others.
12.09.2010
11.18.2010
Big news!
I've got some scary in some ways and exciting in other ways news. My sister-in-law is due to have a baby next month, a baby girl. They just moved out to NY in September. I am flying out there to help her. And to visit of course :).
Well. BAM. Right? Well it felt like a very good thing do to, and I think it is for many reasons.
One of them being my anxiety. The steps I talked about in my last post, have brought me here. I'm just following what I feel God is guiding me too. It's important to me to improve and I am doing my best. It's been very hard to make these steps. A recent step got me very down and put me through a lot of mental and emotional turmoil, but I'm trying to keep it up anyways. I'm just going to keep on, keepin' on.
Another would be the obvious, to help my sil. This move has been VERY difficult on the whole family, and with that it also has been the right one to make for them. I want to help... I want to DO something! So with the help of my very supportive husband, I'm doing just that. Going.
Another very important one is Isabelle. Who is Isabelle you might wonder.
There is much I could say about Isabelle, but I've put it in the form of an assignment I had for a class this semester. I will just say this much: Isabelle is my sister's daughter but lives with my brother and his wife (who I'm going out to NY to see). I will not go into details though, it's not necessary.
My paper is posted below if you want to read it. I timed it and it'll take you about 10mins to read the whole thing. But I'm not asking you to, I'm just saying that it's an important paper to me because it's an important part of my life. It really changed me.
But we are close and will always be! I took care of her for a time in our lives and it forever changed our relationship. I cannot wait to see them!
Well. BAM. Right? Well it felt like a very good thing do to, and I think it is for many reasons.
One of them being my anxiety. The steps I talked about in my last post, have brought me here. I'm just following what I feel God is guiding me too. It's important to me to improve and I am doing my best. It's been very hard to make these steps. A recent step got me very down and put me through a lot of mental and emotional turmoil, but I'm trying to keep it up anyways. I'm just going to keep on, keepin' on.
Another would be the obvious, to help my sil. This move has been VERY difficult on the whole family, and with that it also has been the right one to make for them. I want to help... I want to DO something! So with the help of my very supportive husband, I'm doing just that. Going.
Another very important one is Isabelle. Who is Isabelle you might wonder.
There is much I could say about Isabelle, but I've put it in the form of an assignment I had for a class this semester. I will just say this much: Isabelle is my sister's daughter but lives with my brother and his wife (who I'm going out to NY to see). I will not go into details though, it's not necessary.
My paper is posted below if you want to read it. I timed it and it'll take you about 10mins to read the whole thing. But I'm not asking you to, I'm just saying that it's an important paper to me because it's an important part of my life. It really changed me.
But we are close and will always be! I took care of her for a time in our lives and it forever changed our relationship. I cannot wait to see them!
My Isabelle
Even as I challenge the sky, the struggle seems too great for my weightless body. The air whips tightly around my face and hair as my speed increases. I’m almost there I feel myself reflect with enthusiasm. There’s no worry here, no responsibility. I hear something familiar in the distance that provokes my curiosity, I must get closer. I speed up the pace I accomplish against the bright sky as the sound grows into something familiar. The control I just had seems to be slipping from me, shifting to a sensation of falling. The sound becomes a voice, her voice. She’s crying, I’ve got to get to her I say to myself, whether in my mind or out loud I could not tell.
I feel my body jolt as a rush of alarm overcame me, only to feel my head firmly against my pillow. I blink my heavy eyes in the darkness looking up to the ceiling. My terrible eye sight evident while squinting for a better view of the glowing shapes above me, bringing me back to reality. Glow in the dark stars. A senior in High School and I still have those on my ceiling. I should’ve got rid of them a long time ago…but she loves them, I smile to myself. As this thought passes through my mind, I remember what woke me. “Isabelle, sweetie” speaking sympathetically into the dark room. Stretching against my bed, I bring my arms over my head and yawn. My hand reaches beneath my pillow in search of the red plastic flashlight I’ve kept there since Isabelle arrived six months ago. Swinging it out to my right, I flip the switch. The dusty tunnel like shape of light stretches across the worn brown sofa where she sleeps, reaching her little shaking frame. The sobs of the 2 ½ year old continue as the light rests on her wet, swollen face. Oh no, she must have been crying for awhile! I exclaim, the thrilling sensation from my dream hastily being replaced by guilt. I rapidly blink, sitting up and take a few strides toward the sofa until I can sit next to her.
“Ok sweetie, Caroline’s awake. I’m here, I got you”, I speak in her warm ear, bringing her toward me. Flashlight still in hand, I wrap her little body into the “ducky blanky” she picked out several months ago, and gently place her on my lap. I feel her arms and legs struggle to embrace me for comfort, and even before she starts to suck her thumb, I know she will. It has always been something that brings her security. My heart aches as I think of all the things that she has and will miss out on. Her future is so uncertain, but for this moment she needs me.
“Shhh, shhh. It’s ok,” I express softly to her, patting her warm sweaty back. I know just what is to be done. “Is it singing time, baby girl?” I ask, clearing my groggy throat. Messing up her honey brown hair even more I feel her nod, her head resting securely against my chest. “Umm, hmm,” she answers, still sucking her thumb. This brings a smile to my face. I begin the first verse of her favorite song, Shenandoah.
As though time stops for me to reflect a moment, flashes of the past year come to my mind. I had a day in my head. My mom sitting down with me after school, explaining that Isabelle would be staying with us. More memories of how we all scrambled to make arrangements to care for our tender Isabelle. I had eventually decided to work as a lunch lady to help with the expenses Isabelle had need of. The comprehension that for now, my mother would not be able to take on the responsibility Isabelle would bring, leaving much of it to rest on me. I remembered how my sisters pulled together a schedule so that I could have help with her during the day.
I sigh to myself as the seconds pass, holding Isabelle and thinking how remarkable it was to feel like a single mom, when I wasn’t. The wound it made, knowing all that we had been through together still didn’t qualify me for that role. I brought Isabelle with me everywhere: to games, to be with friends, even trips to the store. At times it was truly a struggle but it was one I was willing to embrace. Being judged wrongfully by others all too often gave me perspective. Anything I wanted to go and do, she came with me, just as she would if I were her mother. I recalled how heart breaking it was the first time she actually called me mommy, and not knowing how to tell her not to. I remembered that day we somehow knew, as if it had just slipped our minds, where we belonged to each other; I was “Her Cayine” and she “My Isabelle.”
As I began singing the second verse I rubbed her back, feeling her steady breathing, but I knew she was still awake. Sure enough, I felt her eyelashes brushing against my skin as she blinked. I loved that feeling so much. I pictured it perfectly: her eyes would look up at me, index finger wrapped around her petite nose while sucking on her fatigued thumb. Her countenance was an imprint in my mind from the many adoring moments of “snuggle time” we had. Through her tantrums, cheerful times, or tears, that was all she really needed.
I never expected my senior year in High School to become what I felt more and more was life altering for the both of us. Ending the song I had sung to her several times a night, I glance at the red glare of the alarm clock. Squinting I read the numbers 4:23a.m. and sigh comprehensively. I will have to be up in an hour to get ready for the day, pausing in my thoughts to squeeze the little girl in my arms that I would do anything for. I discern my next thought to be very earnest, but for Isabelle, I’m OK with that. I’m in harmony with being what she needs right now. I kiss her untidy hair, slightly brushing my lips against her tender forehead in the process. “I love you sweet baby girl, your Caroline loves you,” I convey to her while the kisses continue. “Yessh,” she replied, persisting to savor her pruney thumb. “You whuve me, we whuve each ovoe. Umm Hmm.” I heard the smile in her response, making me laugh with delight at the sound of her endearing voice. That voice constantly left me feeling elated; she’s so precious to me! This sensitive thought prompting my response of laughter, returned giggles from her.
Feeding off one another’s laughter, I had to hold back the tears. Tears of love, sorrow, and happiness. I LOVE this sweet girl with a new part of my heart. Something that I never knew I could have so soon. I missed my sister. I loved her. I wanted the best for her and her daughter Isabelle
While the mixture of my thoughts closed, still laughing with my niece in my arms, an awe-inspiring emotion came over my heart: I wanted this moment with Isabelle forever and ever! I wanted it to be tangible for me so I could embrace it at once. I wanted to keep her with me. The feeling continued until it seemed to devour me. I knew that we’d always be close no matter what uncertainty or testing lie ahead of us.
There were yet more difficulties of change and growth we shared that year. But we’d got through it together. Little did I know that night, that we would have an exceptional bond to this day, even though thousands of miles separate us. We are significantly close and I will forever be indebted to her for all she has qualified me to become. She is and will always be, my Isabelle.
I feel my body jolt as a rush of alarm overcame me, only to feel my head firmly against my pillow. I blink my heavy eyes in the darkness looking up to the ceiling. My terrible eye sight evident while squinting for a better view of the glowing shapes above me, bringing me back to reality. Glow in the dark stars. A senior in High School and I still have those on my ceiling. I should’ve got rid of them a long time ago…but she loves them, I smile to myself. As this thought passes through my mind, I remember what woke me. “Isabelle, sweetie” speaking sympathetically into the dark room. Stretching against my bed, I bring my arms over my head and yawn. My hand reaches beneath my pillow in search of the red plastic flashlight I’ve kept there since Isabelle arrived six months ago. Swinging it out to my right, I flip the switch. The dusty tunnel like shape of light stretches across the worn brown sofa where she sleeps, reaching her little shaking frame. The sobs of the 2 ½ year old continue as the light rests on her wet, swollen face. Oh no, she must have been crying for awhile! I exclaim, the thrilling sensation from my dream hastily being replaced by guilt. I rapidly blink, sitting up and take a few strides toward the sofa until I can sit next to her.
“Ok sweetie, Caroline’s awake. I’m here, I got you”, I speak in her warm ear, bringing her toward me. Flashlight still in hand, I wrap her little body into the “ducky blanky” she picked out several months ago, and gently place her on my lap. I feel her arms and legs struggle to embrace me for comfort, and even before she starts to suck her thumb, I know she will. It has always been something that brings her security. My heart aches as I think of all the things that she has and will miss out on. Her future is so uncertain, but for this moment she needs me.
“Shhh, shhh. It’s ok,” I express softly to her, patting her warm sweaty back. I know just what is to be done. “Is it singing time, baby girl?” I ask, clearing my groggy throat. Messing up her honey brown hair even more I feel her nod, her head resting securely against my chest. “Umm, hmm,” she answers, still sucking her thumb. This brings a smile to my face. I begin the first verse of her favorite song, Shenandoah.
As though time stops for me to reflect a moment, flashes of the past year come to my mind. I had a day in my head. My mom sitting down with me after school, explaining that Isabelle would be staying with us. More memories of how we all scrambled to make arrangements to care for our tender Isabelle. I had eventually decided to work as a lunch lady to help with the expenses Isabelle had need of. The comprehension that for now, my mother would not be able to take on the responsibility Isabelle would bring, leaving much of it to rest on me. I remembered how my sisters pulled together a schedule so that I could have help with her during the day.
I sigh to myself as the seconds pass, holding Isabelle and thinking how remarkable it was to feel like a single mom, when I wasn’t. The wound it made, knowing all that we had been through together still didn’t qualify me for that role. I brought Isabelle with me everywhere: to games, to be with friends, even trips to the store. At times it was truly a struggle but it was one I was willing to embrace. Being judged wrongfully by others all too often gave me perspective. Anything I wanted to go and do, she came with me, just as she would if I were her mother. I recalled how heart breaking it was the first time she actually called me mommy, and not knowing how to tell her not to. I remembered that day we somehow knew, as if it had just slipped our minds, where we belonged to each other; I was “Her Cayine” and she “My Isabelle.”
As I began singing the second verse I rubbed her back, feeling her steady breathing, but I knew she was still awake. Sure enough, I felt her eyelashes brushing against my skin as she blinked. I loved that feeling so much. I pictured it perfectly: her eyes would look up at me, index finger wrapped around her petite nose while sucking on her fatigued thumb. Her countenance was an imprint in my mind from the many adoring moments of “snuggle time” we had. Through her tantrums, cheerful times, or tears, that was all she really needed.
I never expected my senior year in High School to become what I felt more and more was life altering for the both of us. Ending the song I had sung to her several times a night, I glance at the red glare of the alarm clock. Squinting I read the numbers 4:23a.m. and sigh comprehensively. I will have to be up in an hour to get ready for the day, pausing in my thoughts to squeeze the little girl in my arms that I would do anything for. I discern my next thought to be very earnest, but for Isabelle, I’m OK with that. I’m in harmony with being what she needs right now. I kiss her untidy hair, slightly brushing my lips against her tender forehead in the process. “I love you sweet baby girl, your Caroline loves you,” I convey to her while the kisses continue. “Yessh,” she replied, persisting to savor her pruney thumb. “You whuve me, we whuve each ovoe. Umm Hmm.” I heard the smile in her response, making me laugh with delight at the sound of her endearing voice. That voice constantly left me feeling elated; she’s so precious to me! This sensitive thought prompting my response of laughter, returned giggles from her.
Feeding off one another’s laughter, I had to hold back the tears. Tears of love, sorrow, and happiness. I LOVE this sweet girl with a new part of my heart. Something that I never knew I could have so soon. I missed my sister. I loved her. I wanted the best for her and her daughter Isabelle
While the mixture of my thoughts closed, still laughing with my niece in my arms, an awe-inspiring emotion came over my heart: I wanted this moment with Isabelle forever and ever! I wanted it to be tangible for me so I could embrace it at once. I wanted to keep her with me. The feeling continued until it seemed to devour me. I knew that we’d always be close no matter what uncertainty or testing lie ahead of us.
There were yet more difficulties of change and growth we shared that year. But we’d got through it together. Little did I know that night, that we would have an exceptional bond to this day, even though thousands of miles separate us. We are significantly close and I will forever be indebted to her for all she has qualified me to become. She is and will always be, my Isabelle.
10.12.2010
And here it is
October is a special month. As of 1988, has been dedicated to the loss of babies. It is officially called: SIDS, Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. I'm remembering all the babies born sleeping. Their parents and families who miss them. Those carried but never held. Those held but could not come home. Even the little ones who came home but didn't stay...like my Angel. Remembering these sweet Angels and their families ALWAYS brings me to her. Yay! I LOVE talking about her! She's brought so much to my life. Amazing. My baby has introduced me to what growing up really is.
I miss her each day. But something is different lately. Lately, I've been observing. Observing myself and making a conscious effort to improve. Improve how I remember Naimah. A few posts ago I talked in more detail about it. I seem to have made a promise to not get close to another baby because of selfish reasons. I don't think they are bad reasons though. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm good with babies. Perfect? NO. But, I'm good with little ones and children. I'm more comfortable around them than adults. I've missed the joy in it. I haven't just been depriving myself on purpose. I have been holding on too long to certain pieces of my broken heart.
And if I say so myself, the little ones have missed out too ;). I know how to give. Perfectly? Um, NO. Say what?? In no way am I saying I'm the all knowing super human when it comes to children. Never was. I'm totally fine with that. I'm just working on not give up on all babies because mine is not here. I'm taking baby steps. Ironic? Oh yea! VERY. Taking baby steps to babies, haha.
If Naimah were face to face with me and we could have a conversation about what I've done in her memory, I wouldn't want to tell her I haven't held any babies since I held her for the last time. How would she feel? Honored? As her mother, I think I have every right to assume the answer would be, No. I've done other things to honor her. However, that would not be the word to describe my anxiety and distance I've to allowed to take over.
Pieces of Heaven? Yes, they are. Babies change people. Even if just for a time. That's a power that the most "powerful" beings on earth can't even understand. And babies don't do much more than just show up. They arrive. In whatever shape or form. Maybe they don't stay. Maybe they even leave before they open their eyes. Before they can grow much bigger than a finger. No matter their tender state, they prick our hearts to such an extent that trying to share it with someone who hasn't been there with us, would be in vain.
Have I been wrong? I don't think that matters much. That's not what this is about. I can play the sh/c/would've game all my life. What it is about? Recovery. My "AA/NA" greeting starts something like this "Hi. I'm Caroline, and I'm a mother without the baby to prove it. I've been in recovery for 3 years." But there's no clapping. Just quiet. But I can't just stop going because it's quiet. I need to take it all in. Take in the quiet and roll with it. What's it coming to?
Faith. In what? Myself. That's all? No. But that is this step. The one I've landed on. And I haven't lost my ground. But all of the sudden, this step is so much different than the last one. I didn't change much. But it has changed me. I'm breathing differently.
What you talkin' 'bout gurl? Haha. Well. I'm saying I've gotten my "pin" in this step of my recovery. Something in me has changed. I didn't do anything really but stay consistent with a few things and there it was, staring at me. Am I saying that I'm all cured? No. Who is cured of anything? Come on now. If we know anything about growth, we know it doesn't work that way. It would feel like something is off. I do not like it when things are "off". I sense it.
I'm letting this take me. This step of faith in myself. Trusting myself to grow up again. I'm making the choice and I like what I'm feeling. It is a great sense of freedom to know EXACTLY what you are feeling and know it's right.
I miss her each day. But something is different lately. Lately, I've been observing. Observing myself and making a conscious effort to improve. Improve how I remember Naimah. A few posts ago I talked in more detail about it. I seem to have made a promise to not get close to another baby because of selfish reasons. I don't think they are bad reasons though. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm good with babies. Perfect? NO. But, I'm good with little ones and children. I'm more comfortable around them than adults. I've missed the joy in it. I haven't just been depriving myself on purpose. I have been holding on too long to certain pieces of my broken heart.
And if I say so myself, the little ones have missed out too ;). I know how to give. Perfectly? Um, NO. Say what?? In no way am I saying I'm the all knowing super human when it comes to children. Never was. I'm totally fine with that. I'm just working on not give up on all babies because mine is not here. I'm taking baby steps. Ironic? Oh yea! VERY. Taking baby steps to babies, haha.
If Naimah were face to face with me and we could have a conversation about what I've done in her memory, I wouldn't want to tell her I haven't held any babies since I held her for the last time. How would she feel? Honored? As her mother, I think I have every right to assume the answer would be, No. I've done other things to honor her. However, that would not be the word to describe my anxiety and distance I've to allowed to take over.
Pieces of Heaven? Yes, they are. Babies change people. Even if just for a time. That's a power that the most "powerful" beings on earth can't even understand. And babies don't do much more than just show up. They arrive. In whatever shape or form. Maybe they don't stay. Maybe they even leave before they open their eyes. Before they can grow much bigger than a finger. No matter their tender state, they prick our hearts to such an extent that trying to share it with someone who hasn't been there with us, would be in vain.
Have I been wrong? I don't think that matters much. That's not what this is about. I can play the sh/c/would've game all my life. What it is about? Recovery. My "AA/NA" greeting starts something like this "Hi. I'm Caroline, and I'm a mother without the baby to prove it. I've been in recovery for 3 years." But there's no clapping. Just quiet. But I can't just stop going because it's quiet. I need to take it all in. Take in the quiet and roll with it. What's it coming to?
Faith. In what? Myself. That's all? No. But that is this step. The one I've landed on. And I haven't lost my ground. But all of the sudden, this step is so much different than the last one. I didn't change much. But it has changed me. I'm breathing differently.
What you talkin' 'bout gurl? Haha. Well. I'm saying I've gotten my "pin" in this step of my recovery. Something in me has changed. I didn't do anything really but stay consistent with a few things and there it was, staring at me. Am I saying that I'm all cured? No. Who is cured of anything? Come on now. If we know anything about growth, we know it doesn't work that way. It would feel like something is off. I do not like it when things are "off". I sense it.
I'm letting this take me. This step of faith in myself. Trusting myself to grow up again. I'm making the choice and I like what I'm feeling. It is a great sense of freedom to know EXACTLY what you are feeling and know it's right.
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