Tag Archives: Moments

Pre-Op

Posted on by

PreOp3

This is a picture of Emmy at the hospital after 5 solid hours of pre-op. This picture was taken after a 1.5 hour echocardiogram, an EKG, a urine test, blood work, an X-ray, and a few consultations with various doctors.

If it were me, I would’ve been curled up in a ball whimpering and pleading to go home. Emmy, on the other hand, decided to run around the lobby for 25 minutes. As I ran after her, exhausted, I thought, “Kids are tough!”

When we drove to the hospital early this morning, I thought about the last time I was preparing for surgery. Back then, it was a c-section, and I couldn’t wait to meet my daughter. I was beyond giddy. Going to the hospital to have a baby is such a thrilling time. You don’t know who is inside of that belly, and you just can’t wait to see his or her little face.

Driving to the hospital for that same baby’s pre-op for heart surgery is a different feeling altogether. The excitement has vanished. In its place, are hearty doses of fear and anxiety.

“How did I get here?” I kept thinking.

It was a long, nerve-wracking day. I kept my eye on the clock, wanting to rush through it all.

And then I look back at that picture of Emmy who, after hours of testing, was dashing around the lobby. She was waving her hands over her head, saying “Hiiiiii” to anyone who looked her way.

And then I think back to our weekend when we watched this little girl, my oldest, run around happily. She knows that her sister has a “boo boo on her heart” and enthusiastically proclaimed that she would miss her when she goes to the hospital but would see her soon.

PreOp2

As much as I want to fast forward to the future, I am acutely aware of these fleeting moments in time.

I keep thinking, “I want this to be over.  I want this to be over.”

But if I keep rushing through the days leading up to surgery, I’m missing what’s right in front of me. There’s a sense of happiness and positivity radiating off my children, which I’d like to bottle and hold close to my heart.

Salt Water

Posted on by

Saltwater

Salt water is nature’s remedy. When faced with difficult circumstances, I make a hasty retreat to the beach.

I don’t mean “retreat to the beach” as in “put on a bathing suit and sunscreen and relax on the sand.”

My version of going to the beach over the past few years has been more like “put on two sweatshirts, sit on a bench in the cold wind, and gulp in the salty air.”

It helps.

In some ways, we’ve had a tough few years. Dan’s mom died in 2010 from cancer. Dan’s dad died in 2012 after many years battling Parkinson’s disease. We found out that one of our daughter’s has a genetic condition that is coupled with medical issues. And now she’s due to have heart surgery next month.

But, despite all of this, the last few years have also been wonderful. I’ve given birth to two precious children, and we learned about a fascinating genetic condition that has brought a lot of love and community into our lives. We have also leaned on each other, which has made our marriage stronger. Over the past few years, we’ve come to the beach many times to have the salt water heal our wounds, and I’m thankful that we’re in this together.

I told Dan that, when I met him in 2002, I never could’ve imagined what life had in store for us. I was sitting at my desk with an eye on the door, when the “new guy” walked in. His boss started introducing him around the office, and I couldn’t wait to get to know him. Maybe it was the facial hair.

I thought back to myself at that time, caught up in the excitement of meeting the love of my life. Really, I didn’t have a care in the world, and it went on like that for quite some time.

In certain ways, I’m surprised at what life has brought our way. And in other ways, I feel as though we’re right where we need to be. These were our lessons to learn.

This week hasn’t been easy. I’ve had an imaginary little bird on my shoulder whispering “heart surgery heart surgery heart surgery” in my ear–constantly. It reminds me of the same little bird that whispered “Williams syndrome Williams syndrome Williams syndrome” after Emmy was born. I hadn’t heard from that bird for a while, and I’m sorry he’s back. He’s giving me a migraine.

So it felt good to go to the ocean and give my problems over to the salt water.

And as I walked down the windy boardwalk with Dan by my side, my migraine started to dissipate. I was comforted by the fact that when Emmy goes in for surgery, I’ll have a strong hand to hold.

Knock Knock

Posted on by

KnockKnock

I’m always curious about how much Emmy understands. She only says a few words, but she probably comprehends much more than I realize.

When I’m driving the kids to school, the car is full of Charlotte’s animated chatter. Every once in a while, Emmy will catch a word she knows and shout it out: “EAT!” or “NAP!” or “MOO!”

This morning, we were making up “Knock Knock” jokes as only 3 year olds can.

“Knock knock,” Charlotte would start.

“Who’s there?” I would ask.

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

“Banana on your head! HAHAHAHA! Isn’t that funny, mom?”

Charlotte and I went back and forth with our jokes, each more nonsensical than the next.

Emmy sat quietly, watching our banter in the car mirror. Listening to every word–every giggle.

When we arrived at school, I took Emmy out of her carseat and gave her a kiss.

She smiled secretively, curled her little fingers into a fist, gently rapped my shoulder, and said, “Knock knock.”

Present Living

Posted on by

PresentLiving

I’ve never been good at living in the present. Everyone always says “Enjoy the moment!” or “Make every second count!” and the pressure of it all makes me nuts. I think I’m hardwired to live in the past and the future (usually the future).

When I live in the present, it’s because I’m actively trying.

Over the past few months, I’ve made a conscious effort to live in the present, even if it’s only for 5 seconds every day. Really–sometimes I can only get 5 seconds of present living before I’m back to the future!

I learned my lesson the hard way. I used to live for the weekend. Every Monday, I’d begin my race through the week with a steady eye on the weekend. Here we go–flying through Monday, skipping over Tuesday, sailing through Wednesday, almost there Thursday, finishing with Friday, and HELLO SATURDAY AND SUNDAY!! LET THE FUN BEGIN!

I wasn’t living. Every single week, I was wasting 120 hours and enjoying 48 hours.

Now here’s where my real problem came in…

Let’s say Saturday and Sunday were crappy days. Let’s say I had some obligations to fulfill and didn’t even get to enjoy Saturday and Sunday.

Now I’ve wasted 168 hours, and I am PISSED.

But here we go–sliding into Monday morning and the cycle begins again!

Finally, something jostled in my brain. One useless idea moved to the side to make room for another that said, “How about enjoying the present?”

Ever since then, I’ve been trying hard to make that happen. I want to be a participant in my life. I want to actively live it.

Today we went for a walk in the woods and, for a good 20 minutes, I didn’t think about the past or the future. Twenty minutes is a major accomplishment, so thankfully it seems to be getting better with practice.

“Forever – is composed of Nows –”     Emily Dickinson