Its Mother’s Day here in the USA. I’m a mother home very sick with a lupus complicated drug reaction. Since this is Lupus Awareness Month, I hope to blog something every day about lupus in order to increase awareness. If you want to help me, please share the info and links on your blogs. If you are a woman, or love someone who is, you really need to know more about the effects of this devastating disease:
Archive for the ‘mothers’ Category
(12 week sonogram found on youtube- NOT OUR BABY!)
I cannot even begin to describe what an experience it was to see the baby on the sonogram. I stood next to my son-in-law, my daughter of course on the examining table, holding her husband’s hand, as we watched in awe. That was no flat, lifeless screen as shown in the photo on my previous post. It was like an in utero video. At twelve weeks he was moving around, very active, and even sucking his thumb! There we were, three adults, dumbstruck. “Oh wow!” was pretty much the extent of the conversation from all three of us while the tech did her thing. My daughter’s “oh how cute!!!!!” periodically punctuated the conversation. She, as we all did, really melted when we saw the thumb sucking. That and our repeated question “is it a boy or a girl????” The tech kept demurring that she couldn’t be certain at twelve weeks, but finally, having found the penis, she announced “Its a boy!”
We all exclaimed in joy! My daughter was no longer carrying an “it” but a male baby. From the moment I heard it, I no longer felt merely the excitement of the pregnancy. Now he had an identity. I felt love for him . For that tiny little guy so active inside his mom. For Baby V, already named before his mom even got pregnant.
At twelve weeks, this baby was no future unknown. This baby was now.
And I feel so very honored that they invited me to participate in this intimate, joyous stage of their journey. I love all three of them with all my heart.
(An Embryo at 12 weeks- not ours)
I am so excited. I’m going with my daughter and son-in-law for the 12 week sonogram tonight. What a way to meet my grandchild! I don’t remember them back in my day… Apparently this tech has a 100% success rate reading these things for gender, but of course the 20 week one will be definitive. I have many deep thoughts about this baby’s soon to be arrival into our family, but that will be another post for another time. Just had to share the present thrill. Even my own Drama Mama (thanks for that one, Amber!) is excited. She will be a great grandma, and we even have a great great grandma waiting in the wings. More tomorrow, friends.
Ok, I know its customary for the mom and dad these days to say “we’re pregnant”, but I just have to tell you that my daughter is pregnant with my first grandchild, and it sure feels like WE’RE pregnant..(.actually just like her wedding felt like “our wedding”.) We are just so close. She wants me in the delivery room and everything. I am just so honored about that. And even more honored that her husband wants me there.
No, he really does.
She just got back from the doctor’s. We knew it of course from the home pregnancy test and other obvious signs, but it was nice to have him confirm that she’s healthy and they got to hear the heartbeat. She’s two months, due September 25th.
Woohoowoohoowoohoo!!!!!! 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
She thinks she already looks pregnant, especially in her stomach. I don’t want to rain on her parade, she’s so excited, but truthfully, shhhh…here is what she still looks like:
This is a well known column by Erma Bombeck, a very popular writer who was syndicated back in the days before the internet and died in 1996.. (Yes children, there once was a world without it when people couldn’t live without their paper newspapers!)
Anyway, I thought I’d post it for anyone in younger generations, or other countries, who missed it. Its quite wonderful, I think. Hope you will too. Its called “If I Had My Life to Live Over”. She writes:
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more “I love yous”.. more “I’m sorrys”… but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…look at it and really see it…live it…and never give it back.
by Erma Bombeck
About Erma from Wikipedia: “Erma Louise Bombeck (February 21, 1927 – April 22, 1996), born Erma Fiste, was an Americanhumorist who achieved great popularity for hernewspaper column that described suburban home life humorously from the mid-1960s until the late ’90s. Bombeck also published 15 books, most of which became best-sellers.
From 1965 to 1996, Erma Bombeck wrote over 4,000 newspaper columns chronicling the ordinary life of a midwestern suburban housewife with broad, and sometimes eloquent, humor. By the 1970s, her witty columns were read, twice weekly, by thirty million readers of 900 newspapers of theU.S. and Canada.”
You know you’ve been hit when you feel stung, shot right between the eyes, express hurt, and the shooter retorts: “What’s the matter? I was just giving you a little constructive criticism!” This is their defense posture because now they’re feeling criticized by your reaction to their criticism. It’s supposed to mean they were “only trying to help you”.
In the first place, if you’d wanted their opinion you would have asked for it. These people have never learned the old saying, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Worse yet, these are often the very same people who once taught us this very thing, but they think that because they’re our parents they somehow have an exemption.
Criticism is the expression of disapproval of someone based on perceived faults in them or their behavior. So constructive criticism is an oxymoron.
Destructive Criticism :
That haircut makes your face look chubby, dear.
Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to make disgusting noises when you eat, sweetheart?
Have you noticed that your gut is beginning to hang over your belt?
Honey, no offense but you sing like a baboon.
When are you going to learn that not everyone is interested in your long, boring stories?
You really over indulge that child.
You’d better stop feeding her so much or she’s going to turn into a whale.
When I raised my son he got his underwear ironed.
Why are you wearing so much makeup? Did they have a sale down at Macy’s?
Most of us have been victims of such remarks at one time or another. But you don’t have to stay a victim. You can have an a ready response in your arsenal should a shooter appear disguised as a friend or loved one.
The obvious one that I started with was “If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it.” But that doesn’t fit everyone’s personality style. Others might include:
“Thank you for your kind, gentle, and sincere help.”
“You can withdraw your fangs now, I get the message.”
“I have a headache tonight. And I’ll have one tomorrow night too.”
“You’re beginning to sound just like my mother.”
You get the idea. Disclaimer: I’m not talking healthy communication responses here. I’m talking good old fashioned getting even. Because once in a while, lets be honest here, it just feels good to take a shot at the shooter.
Ok, this may be a sign of my obsession with wanting a grandchild, but I ask you….can you watch this and NOT laugh just hearing him? I hope this brings a smile, or a laugh, to you today.
Having a bad day? Try watching this 🙂
A couple I’m working with blew me away with a DVD they have of a pediatrician who teaches mirroring to young parents. Mirroring is literally just that, imitating the communication of the child so that he or she feels you’re speaking their language. The toddler then feels understood, and cooperative. He is Dr. Harvey Karp – the DVD is The Happiest Toddler on the Block.
Among other things he teaches mirroring of facial expressions, body language and sounds. His basic tenet is don’t talk to toddlers like they’re little adults because they’re not; their language skills are far more primal. You have to literally get down to their level. He also has another one, The Happiest Baby on the Block which I have not yet reviewed.
The results looked startlingly effective to ward off and/or stop tantrums. His website is www.thehappiestbaby.com. I can tell you one thing for sure. When my kids present me with grandchildren, this will be one of the first gifts I give them.
Here he is in action:
Oh, what a wedding it was! Everything and more than we’d dreamed of since she was five, when I caught her in our yard literally kissing frogs because, “I have to find my prince, Mommy.” She apparently squeezed one frog so ardently that she frantically presented it to me because she…well….she couldn’t wake it up.
I raised my princess to be strong, assertive, and independent. She did not need Prince Charming to save her or rescue her, but she did find a Prince Charming who is fairy tale handsome, protective, nurturing, kind, strong, gentle, and generous. (And yes, also an alpha male!)
Oh, what beautiful babies they will make!
They’re twenty eight, have been together for seven years, and lived together for the past two. So her new husband already felt like family, it seemed to me. Yet witnessing for them as they signed their marriage license, and watching them go through the ritual in the church, somehow made me love him differently. Because now he IS family. He will be the father of my grandchildren. He will take care of me when I’m old, if I should need it. He’s that kind of man, a good man. And so is his family. Our tiny family, long since dwindled from what it once was, has somehow been blessed with in-laws who have already absorbed us into their tribe. We have long yearned for this void to be filled.
They looked gorgeous. They looked madly in love, even after all this time. They never left each other’s side but ate and danced and laughed the night away. Their song was “I Could Not Ask for More” by Ed McCain. But I found this one on YouTube sung by a female vocalist, with video clips from The Notebook, my daughter’s and my all time favorite romantic movie. The lovers here remind me of my new newlyweds:
I truly could not ask for more.
“A free race cannot be born of slave mothers.”
Yup, that’s been my title for the past year or so, since we began planning my daughter’s wedding. We’ve been planning the fairy tale since she was a little girl, and so excited to get started once she got engaged. Also, for the past year, my lupus has been getting worse. More work obligations cancelled. More social plans cancelled. More pain. More bed. I cannot make any commitments. Everything is tentative. Living a tentative life is stressful, and stress makes lupus worse.
We are coming down the wire here and I only pray that I will get a remission in time for the September wedding. I’ve already had to disappoint her, and me, by canceling some plans with her. It looks like today will be another one, since I’m in a lot of pain though fighting it. We are supposed to go for her first bridal fitting, and also to a make up trial. This is supposed to be a fun thing that moms and daughters do together. I feel so terrible, terrible, terrible to have to disappoint her (and me) again.
I try to tell myself its all in my mind, but its not. Its in my bones and in my foggy brain. Yesterday, I had to ask my sister to drive me to the pharmacy and to the lab for a blood draw. I NEVER ask people for help…yet today I am actually considering driving up to my daughter’s to do what we had planned. I simply cannot bear to disappoint her…
But then I think, I almost died four years ago when I had my stroke. And I think, one of her oldest friends lost her mother to cancer just two months before the wedding. Can you imagine how sad that was? So then I think, we’re fortunate that I’m alive and able to share the wedding experience with her, albeit at a distance. And as my father used to say, you have to roll with the punches….
I had posted this quote, author unknown, on 12/15/07. Today the author contacted me and identified herself. Her son had recognized her quote and pointed her this way. I think its only fair to quote her again with proper attribution so here it is. And anyone who likes my site should visit hers – she is definitely another kindred soul…:
“”In and out… up and down…. over and over…. she wove her strands of her life together….patching hole after hole…eventually she saw it was much more than the threads which gave her strength….it was in the very act of weaving, itself, that she became strong.”Author Unknown
A touching video produced by a daughter who lost her mother to lupus:
“What kind of life would we like our daughters to have? In order to help our daughters and other young women discover the meaning of lifework success, first we need to examine what lifework success means for us.” Sally Gelardin from her book The Mother-Daughter Relationship
Ok, I’m a therapist. I know we all have our issues, often with Mom. I have them myself. But with Mother’s Day approaching, I thought it would be nice for us to mention a wonderful moment, a shining moment, a defining moment with our mothers that transcends any issues we might still have.
For me, the first thing that comes to mind is when my daughter was born. Seeing Mom in the recovery room and our sponataneous grasping hands, high into the air in a victory gesture, with mom joyously exclaiming, “We got our girl!!!”
What about you?