In Remembrance

Yesterday was the three year anniversary of my brother's passing. This is becoming my annual post in his honor. Time hasn't made it hurt any less. The wound is still jagged and raw.

I've always felt that as long as you tell stories about a loved one who has passed, then they really haven't died because their memory and spirit lives in those stories and remembrances. In that vein, I'm re-posting the speech that I wrote for Calvin's funeral service.

Calvin with Makaya. 

This past week, I've thought a lot about my brother.  I’ve remembered wild stunts, crazy stories, long lost friends and enemies, and I've finally gotten the back story on so many jokes.  But I sadly realized just how little I really knew about my own brother.  We had our rough patches growing up.  It’s inevitable when you are as close as we were.  But as we got older, the petty childhood bickering faded into the past, and we would talk more.  Never about anything serious or deep, just about day to day life and our kids.  We would talk for hours about nothing at all, but somehow the conversation would always get back to his girls. 

 Cal loved children, especially his girls.  They are his pride and joy.  The true loves of his life, and he would do anything for them.  The last time I went to see him, he showed me a playhouse he had built for Gabby.  It was wonderful!  It had real windows, a light inside, and a little covered porch.  It was a masterpiece and a perfect example of his talent.  He had built it from scraps of this and leftovers of that.  Gabby was so proud of the little house that her daddy had built, she couldn’t wait to show it off.  That was one thing she definitely got from her daddy, Pride. 

 Cal was always so proud of his family and friends.  He loved everyone, and it was almost impossible not to love him back.  Don’t get me wrong.  There were times when you really weren’t happy with him, but you always loved him, and you knew that he always loved you too.  He was always ready with a good strong hug.  A “Love ya, Sis.”  Mum says he always gave the best hugs, and it’s true.  He could have taught a class on it.  They were always just right. 

 Though we talked now and then on the phone, it was always in the back of my mind, “I should call Cal and see what he’s up to,” but it would get put off.  There were errands to run, chores to do.  My regret is that I didn’t make the time to call my little brother more often, just to say “Hi”.  I let life get in the way. 

Last week things changed.  Priorities were shifted.  Despite the prayers of thousands, God felt it was time for Calvin to come home.  Friday morning he slipped peacefully through the gates into the arms of loved ones who had gone before him.  They will be catching up on all those wonderful hugs that I'm sure they missed. 

 I know the full reality of this has not hit me yet.  It may not for a while.  But I also know that someday I too will pass through those gates, as we all will, and Cal will be there, arms open, ready to give me one of his wonderful hugs.

Calvin with his daughter Gabby

I keep waiting for the day I can look at a picture of him and not feel that tight pain in my chest. I keep pictures and reminders of him around the house because even though they hurt, they also help me remember. 

I would rather remember and hurt than feel nothing and forget.

You are dearly missed little brother. Missed and loved.

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Wordless Wednesday

Happy Birthday Wesleyann Sabbath

Fair warning, this is a long post.

Wesleyann’s birth story starts out at about noon on Monday, November 15^th 2010. I was due on the 9^th, so the doctors wanted to do a Bio Physical Profile (BPP). I’d had one with Makaya, and it didn’t end well, so I was stressing out. I sent a text message to our doula, Sabbath. She was the calm collected voice of reason I knew she would be, and she helped me relax and breathe until the appointment later that afternoon.

At the appointment, everything was great with the baby, except for fluid levels. They still gave me a high score, but because of the fluid levels, they suggested delivery as soon as possible. When this was relayed to the doctors in Iowa City, they didn’t seem to share the same sense of urgency. They just wanted me to wait it out and come in for a regular appointment the next day at 2 pm. This was unacceptable. With Makaya, the situation was very similar, there was no fluid, and she was already showing early signs of distress. I didn’t want that to happen to this baby too. After several calls back and forth between myself, Cosette (my midwife in Des Moines) and Sabbath, we all decided to just go.

So at 7 pm on Monday, November 15^th, we made “The Calls.” We called Robert’s mom to come watch Makaya, and since she had a two hour drive, we dropped Makaya off at a friend’s house to wait while Robert and I got in the car and set out for Iowa City. We stopped for dinner before leaving town and Sabbath helped us relax, and also pumped us up mentally for what we were about to get ourselves into.

The drive to Iowa City wasn’t as relaxing as I would have planned. Robert had worked that morning, so he had been up since 3:30 that morning. He was falling asleep at the wheel, so I ended up having to drive.

When we got there, thankfully, they were expecting us. I have no idea what Cosette said to the people she talked to, but she certainly worked some magic. We waited for a short while in a family waiting room, I assume they were preparing a room and all the necessary paperwork.

I was anxious and excited. I don’t do well in hospitals, and I was about to start the longest day of my life to date.

Once we were in the room, they checked me so they had a “starting point,” and I was at a ‘fingertip’. This was great news for me because I was already ahead of the game as far as I was concerned. They hooked up the pitocin, I sent out some e-mails, and then we all settled in and waited for the ball to start rolling.

About 3 am, my water broke. The contractions started to pick up, and the roller coaster was moving at full speed.

By mid morning on Tuesday, labor was full on. The contractions were strong and quickly paced, but I was managing. We all thought that the pace I was moving at would give us a baby by dinner. Boy were we wrong.

By Tuesday afternoon, I was working with a nurse named Sun. She was a little Asian lady who was so calm and relaxed. I remember calling her my Zen Garden. She was just what I needed at that point in my labor. She was my anchor, and I appreciated her quiet presence. She would just drift in and out of the room, only bothering us when she really needed to. I remember I was using the birthing ball, and bouncing through contractions while Robert applied pressure to my hips and back. There was a time, two or three contractions maybe, where Sun just squatted in front of me, holding the monitor on my belly so she could get a reading of the baby’s heart on the strip, then once she had what she needed, she made a few notes on the computer, and quietly left the room.

Later, when I was recovering, Robert said when it came time for Sun’s shift to be over, she didn't want to leave. He said that she chased off the next nurse a few times before she reluctantly said good bye to me. This little bit of information makes me smile every time I think about it. She was so sweet, and I really enjoyed her presence and what she brought to my labor.

Labor continued to progress.

My overnight nurse Tuesday evening to Wednesday morning was Emily, and she brought new energy to the space. By this point I had been in labor for 20+ hours, and had been awake for more than 30 hours. I was wearing out, and Emily helped me hang in there. She was amazing, and did everything in her power to keep me from having to get an internal monitor. There was one point where I was on the bed, on hands and knees, and Emily was holding the monitor on my belly as I rocked and moved through several contractions.

Eventually, a wireless telemetry monitor became available, and Sabbath had me get in the tub for a while. It was awesome while the water was nice and hot, but it cooled off really quickly. I remember Sabbath leaving Robert and I alone in the bathroom for a while, and Robert sleeping in a chair while I drifted in that in-between state, not quite asleep not really awake, between contractions. I asked him at one point if I had bad breath. It had been forever since I had last brushed my teeth, and I had been breathing through the contractions (through my mouth) for a really long time. He told me no, but I think he was lying to spare my feelings.

When I couldn’t stand the water any longer, I got out and crawled back into bed.

I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep.

Emily’s shift was ending, but she was so confident that I was going to have a baby soon that she moved the baby warmer into the room, and she had found a little knitted hat for the baby to wear. We were sure that the baby was going to be a boy (no ultrasound, just a gut feeling from mom), so she found a cute little brown and blue hat for him.

It was around this time that I finally gave in and asked for something to take the edge off the contractions so I could rest a bit. They gave me an injection of something, but Robert kept waking me up with his snoring.

I may have thrown a pillow at him. 

It may have also been around this time that I told him to "please stop chewing his fucking gum."

It eventually became clear that an internal monitor was necessary, and after a second injection of pain meds, they placed the monitor.

By now, the morning shift change had happened, and I now had Rachel for my nurse. I remember when she came in for the first time, I looked over at her and said, "I've been doing this for a long time, and I've had a lot of nurses. How about if you're my last nurse, ok?"

By this time I had been in labor for more than 30 hours, and on pitocin the entire time as well. Aside from the few minutes where I dozed between contractions, I hadn't slept for more than 48 hours. I was beyond tired, and I was seriously worn out.

When the three new doctors walked into my room I knew it wasn't going to be good news. I didn't want to hear it, and I felt a deep sense of failure before they even said anything. I will forever remember them as a black cloud that rolled into my room, shooting lightning bolts from their eyes, and disdain from their mouths.

After they left, I broke down. I had failed again. 

Then a spur caught my brain and whispered in my ear, “You don’t have to accept this. Ask for another doctor. You have rights.”

And that’s just what we did, we got a second opinion.

Robert and I asked for a second opinion, and requested a doctor we had worked with earlier on Tuesday, Dr. Fairbanks.

She came up, and gave us her opinion. But then she asked us for ours as well. She talked to us, she listened to us, and she helped us make the best decision possible for everyone, not just the baby. In short, she respected us, and she was awesome and amazing all at one time.

Once the decision had been made, and plans were underway for the C-section, the atmosphere changed.

There was new energy in the room. There were people coming and going, everyone was busy with a task.

And I finally got to brush my teeth.

The staff at the hospital and our doctor in particular worked very hard to respect every request, every issue I had going into the surgery. They called in the head of anesthesiology because the anesthesiologist on call was a man, and I had asked specifically for no men to be present other than my husband.

While I was busy signing forms and getting into the SIHG (standard issue hospital gown), Rachel was busy doing the most important job of the day. She was finding a nurse just for the baby so she wouldn't be taken immediately to the nursery. 

This was huge. With Makaya, because of the circumstances surrounding her birth, it was hours before I got to see her. I didn’t want that to happen again.

I don't think I can ever thank her enough for that gift.

When everything was set, and everyone was in scrubs, we walked to the operating room. It was surreal. I was scared and nervous and excited all at once.

Once we were in there, they realized that my IV was bad, and that’s why it had been hurting me for so long (it wasn’t placed correctly, and for the past two days, it had been killing me. I started calling the hand it was in the “gorilla hand” because I couldn’t bend my hand back, I had to support my weight on my knuckles like a freaking silver backed gorilla.) They replaced my IV, and got the spinal going. I was glad they suggested a spinal instead of an epidural, I really didn’t like the idea of a needle sitting in my spine for a prolonged period of time. *shudder*

At 11:38 they started surgery. Because of the previous C-section, there was a lot of scar tissue to get through, and it was taking a long time.

One of the black cloud doctors suggested that because I had been in labor for so long, and hadn’t progressed any farther was because my uterus was rupturing. I disagreed. Loudly.

When Dr. Fairbanks finally got to my uterus, she announced that I was not in fact rupturing, confirming what I had already asserted earlier, despite the black cloud doctors prediction, and my previous incision was still perfectly intact. 

It took a long time to get through all the layers of scaring, and it was quiet in the room, just murmurs between the doctors and the nurses.

Finally at 11:58 am, Dr. Fairbanks announced, "I see baby!"

There was suddenly so much commotion. Everyone talking and it was so loud I yelled, "SHHHHHH! I can't hear my baby! I missed hearing my daughter; I don't want to miss this one!"

And everyone stopped talking all at once, and then I heard her.

I heard my baby's first cries.

They were beautiful, and I can still hear them when I close my eyes and think about that moment.

It took sooo long for them to bring her to me. It felt like it took longer to bring her to me than it took to cut through to her. In reality it was really about 7 minutes and then I got to see her. 

I got to touch her and hold her and smell her and kiss her, and I haven't stopped since.

I told Robert I wanted to name her Wesleyann to keep his family name, and Sabbath in honor of the person who was so instrumental in helping us have a better birth this time.

He agreed.

That's how our family grew one year ago today.

Happy Birthday Wesleyann Sabbath. I love you more than you will ever know.

...and then I got to see her. 

I got to touch her and hold her and smell her and kiss her, and I haven't stopped since.

Happy Birthday Wesleyann Sabbath.
I love you more than you will ever know.

In honor of what I was doing ALLL day last year, I used my "Birth" mug for my coffee on the 16th.

Silent Sunday

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Please note: the linky is down this week as Jay is on holiday, but you can still learn all about Silent Sunday, do your own Silent Sunday post, and join the fun when it's back up next week. Cheers!

A Foray Into Reviewing

Recently I was contacted by My Memories to test out their software and write a review on here. I was shocked to say the least. Someone out there is actually looking at my blog! So after thinking about it for a few days, I decided to give it a try.

I will be playing with and reviewing photo editing software made by My Memories. The program can do so much more though. According to the site I can make videos and scrapbook pages too.

As a bonus for my readers, My Memories is also allowing me to give one copy away to a lucky reader and they are also offering a coupon for $10 off a purchase of the software at their online store. Simply copy and paste this code: STMMMS11009 into your cart at check-out.

I've downloaded the software and will take it for a test drive this week, then I'll post my review on Saturday so you can see how hard I was working all week.

In the meantime, go check out My Memories (www.mymemories.com) and take a look at all they have to offer.

Silent Sunday

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Happy Birthday

Today would have been my brother's 31st birthday.

He died nearly two and a half years ago, and I still miss him. I still get that horrible tightness in my chest and the, now familiar, sting in my eyes every time I see a picture of him or think about him.

I've stopped asking when that will go away. I don't think it ever will.

I can't change what happened. I can't go back in time and call him more often or take his keys away. So I do the only thing I can. I remember him.

Calvin with my oldest daughter (his niece) Makaya in August 2004

Calvin William Allen Skinner

August 11, 1980 - April 17, 2009

Makaya Simone

Happy birthday my sweet baby girl!

Seven years ago, you took your first breath...

...And my world hasn't been the same since.

It seems like I blinked and you were already walking and talking.

Pretty soon, you were a year old.

As the years flew by, time seemed to pick up speed as if it were a ball rolling down a steep hill.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Five...

Six...

Seven...

Oh...

Wow. It's a little hard to breathe, give me a minute.

My sweet baby girl is seven. The angriest of midgets, is almost a second grader. 

I am so proud of the person you are and I need to tell you that more often. You are so grown up and capable of so much. I see your endless energy and potential every time I look at you, and I see your vast ability to love everyone and everything every time I see you with your baby sister. You are my first baby and you will always be my sweet baby girl, no matter what you do, where you go, or how old you are.

I love you, Squnnie. All the way to the moon...and back.

Love,

Mama

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Chasing Rabbits And Herding Cats

If you chase two rabbits, both will escape.
- Unknown Author

This has been the story of my life the past few weeks. I've written about it on here before, and thankfully things have slowed down quite a bit since that morning when I drove off without my daughter.

Sadly, I realized the other day that Little W is 6 months old. Six months. Half of her first year of life has already passed me by. The time when she will change the most, grow the most, has already happened. It went so quickly, and I don't feel like I really got the chance to enjoy it.

I desperately want to roll the clock back and trade all those stupid PTA meetings and events for more time with her. All the waisted hours making phone calls instead of just sitting and enjoying nursing her or just holding her.

I knew it would go fast. I knew I wouldn't remember everything, and yet, I still didn't manage to find the time to take more pictures or videos of her. Other than a few very dark pictures from the day she was born, I really don't have any pictures of her and I together as a newborn.

I feel pretty lucky that this time around I've managed to hold the PPD at bay, but I find myself wondering if it isn't starting to creep in. I also wonder if my heart is trying to talk my brain into a third baby, something that just isn't in the cards.

I think I'm having such a hard time with Little W growing up because I know that she will be the last baby I nurse, the last baby I snuggle and coo to that is just mine. Someday I'll have grandbabies (probably), but that's different.

I had difficulty coming to terms with my pregnancy when I was carrying Little W. I found myself wishing everything away. I was so busy worrying about how it was all going to work out that I missed out on the joy. I didn't take the time to just stop and enjoy the feeling of life growing inside me. Now I look back and think, "What I wouldn't give to have just one more day of my pregnancy back."

This is all new emotional ground for me. With The Angry Midget, I didn't have all these regrets, I didn't have the sense of loss as she grew older. For a long time I planned to have more children, and I figured that if I missed something, there was always the next one. I think some of that might have been the PPD talking. It made it hard for me to connect with The Angry Midget, and it made it really hard to feel anything in general.

Now I know that this is my last shot, and I don't want to miss anything.

But I've already missed six months.

Silent Sunday

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