15 Year Reunion

Last weekend I was back in Pennsylvania for my 15 year high school reunion.

I was not popular in high school. Not even a little. I didn't really fit in with any group, and while I had a few friends, we really didn't hang out together at school because I didn't fit in their group.

Still, when I got the email a few months ago announcing plans for our 15 year reunion, I thought, "This will be fun. I'll go and see people who I've maybe only seen on Facebook, if at all since graduation."

Let's just say things didn't go as planned.

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.

Time: Can I have some now, please?

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.
- John Burroughs, essayist and naturalist

I have been trying to finish a post that I started almost two months ago, but every time I sit down to work on it, something happens, and I'm pulled away. It seems like there just isn't enough time to do what needs to be done. There isn't enough mom to go around.

This week is staff appreciation week at my daughter's school. The 3rd VP PTA Board position is in charge of fundraising and Staff Week.

I'm the 3rd VP.

It has been no secret with my family that I have found being on the PTA Board very stressful. Add to that the fact that I gave birth this school year and have been dealing with breastfeeding issues, a slow growing baby, a six year old who is suddenly acting out at school and at home, a husband who is in danger of losing his job (which means no insurance, or income for our family) and has been sick off and on for more than two months, a furnace that's trying to kill us, and the ever increasing cost of everything but no increase in paycheck size dilemma that most families are facing these days, and you get a very stressed Mama.

This week it seems to all be coming to a head.

We got the furnace fixed, so it won't kill us in our sleep. The down side is I had to use the money set aside for getting us significantly out of debt to do it.

After some drama, the second to last fundraiser is finally behind me (I hope).

Staff appreciation week had a bit of a rough start, but I think things are smoothing out.

My husband's job is no more secure than it was before. That still makes me a little ill when I think about it, so I just try not to. It's not exactly the "Ostrich Approach" but it's working for now (mostly).

Then Monday night happened.

Ahhh, Monday...

Monday my husband came home from work early. He never does that. Ever. It doesn't matter how horrible he feels, he toughs it out to the end of his shift. He asked me to call the doctor in the morning. This is also very out of character for him, so I knew he was really bad off. At the appointment, the student doctor writes it off as a 24 hour bug, and is ready to let him out the door. Then the ARNP comes in and starts talking to him. She does a physical exam, palpating his abdomen, and tells him that she wants to do blood work because she's concerned it's his gallbladder. Initial results come back that there is no sign of infection of any kind, so that rules out food poisoning and 24 hour virus. More signs that point to a gallbladder issue.

We are supposed to hear back today about his blood work, and if further testing will be required.

Yesterday, in the doctor's office, I was fine with this. It was no big deal, everything would work out ok. Now, 24 hours later, it's a different story.

I've had to wait for blood work results before. Hundreds of times. I've been impatient, because I needed a Rx refill. I've been nervous because my baby's health was at stake.

I've never had this feeling before though.

I don't even know what it is.

But I have a suspicion it's fear.

Deep down, I know everything will be ok. No matter what the results are, I know it will all work out. But...

But then there's that voice that pipes up every once in a while that says, "Not always, not always."

So, that's where I'm at today.

Waiting.

Waiting for someone else's blood work to come back.

Waiting to hear, "It will all work out."