Hiding in Plain Sight

Know how life bumbles along and bumbles along, and things like politics and clean laundry and a dog-hair-free floor seem to matter until all of a sudden something cataclysmic happens and the world just stops and the only thing that matters is that the person you love keeps breathing?  Yeah, it has been that kind of week.

For the most part, I haven't talked about it.  But then, that is the problem, isn't it?  There is this hidden illness that nobody talks about but so many confront every day.  This disease that kills and maims and reduces life to misery and is very, very real.  It's been a part of my life since I met my husband, much as he and I both tried to sweep it under the rug.  And it became very, very real to us both a week ago last Thursday.

Depression.  For so long, I just didn't understand.  Perhaps I still don't.   But until people open up and talk about it like they do any other disease (diabetes, cancer, heart failure) wonderful people like my husband will go without help, not understanding themselves, and not understood by those who love them most. 

We tried.  For years, we tried.  I asked Julio to get help.  I begged him to talk to someone other than me.  "Choose happiness", I'd say.  "Home is where you are", I'd blabber.

But I completely missed the point. 

He could no more choose happiness than a patient with leukemia can just tell all those blasts where to go.

After a few years, he finally relented and sought help.  Only, the help he got wasn't enough.  The meds were working, but none of us; not his doctors, not me, not even himself took it seriously enough.  We didn't talk about it outside our family.  We kept it hidden, attempted to deal with its ramifications all by ourselves. 

Until we couldn't.  

We can't not talk about it anymore.  We can't keep it between us, and take the medications as prescribed.  They aren't enough.  We're fighting, but the disease is fighting back.  

September 19th at 10:30 pm, I thought it had won.  It tried to take his life, and so very nearly succeeded.  

But we prevailed.  Life and love and luck and medicine came through.  His life was saved thanks to the ICU and ventilators.  And now, we're talking about it.  Too many people suffer, too many families hide in shame, pretending everything is okay, that no disease clouds their lives.  It is time to bring this very real disease, with its very real life-threatening complications out of hiding so that it can be vanquished and controlled.  

Julio wants to live.  He wants to get better.  He does not want this disease to permeate our lives, tear us apart, isolate us from those we love.  He's fighting back, and I'm alongside of him.  We're not doing it alone.  We can't.

Happy Birthday, Honey

Mi corazon,

It has been seven years since we first celebrated your birthday together over a pitcher of beer in MacWen's. That feels like a life-time ago, yet only yesterday.

You had fewer gray hairs, then, though you've always been distinguished. I was barely a woman, and definitely not the same person as I am today. Had we known then where we'd be now, would we have looked at each other differently that night? I remember the feel of your hand in mine; so new and still trembling. I remember feeling so, so lucky to be allowed to hug you, to be the girl to kiss the birthday boy.

Remember that first camping trip we took for your birthday that weekend? The botched tent, the cold night, the tuna and crackers? I've never been so grateful for duct tape, I'll tell you that. The laguna and las cascadas and the paramo, all so perfect.

We've grown and changed as individuals. We've grown and changed as a couple, learning about real love, deep sadness, true happiness.

Seven years later, I'm so incredibly blessed to be the wife that hugs you, the woman to kiss the birthday man.

Happy Birthday, mi vida. I'm ready to celebrate one more year with a bottle of wine and a lot of love,

For always,
tu indiecita

Perhaps Progress?

I'm knocking on wood and keeping my lips sealed, but perhaps there is progresss in the you-know-what?



Remember being about 5 years old and thinking the the days couldn't go any slower, that your birthday would never get here, that Christmas was years away, and you totally didn't believe your mom when she told you that someday, life would go by much faster?

Yeah, well, I believe my mom now.
How in the hell is it Friday already? I haven't done even the bare minimum on my to-do list this week, and it is already time to start it again. We have company coming tonight (who might beat me home) and the sheets on the guest bed need changing, the floors need vacuuming, there is a laundry back-up, and both bathrooms need cleaning. Boo. Can't time just slow down a little bit? I mean, not so I get to enjoy the infancy of my daughter or spend hours laughing with my spouse, or to use time to figure out how to fix health care or world peace or something. No, just so I can get housework done. Priorities, people.

I have been taking time for me, or at least attempting. This is hard in a world where Monday seems to come right after Wednesday, when July feels like Christmas is just around the corner (and seriously, it is! and there is so much to do!) I have successfully managed to take at least half an hour a day for myself, to work out for myself 6 days this week. That is a milestone. It is liberating to be able to walk without singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" while doing the motions and pushing a stroller trying to entertain an increasingly fussy infant who is done with the walk before I am (picture that on a busy street, passing lots of people. entertaining, it is not). Sometimes, I even have thoughts of my own. Or at least time for my brain to relax.

Why, then, do I feel selfish if Sofia has woken up already when it is time for my walk? Because I do. And most times, I take her, and I want to take her. I wish I had the luxury of needing to get away from her, but I don't. The hours I'm at work are away from her as I have to be. That's probably why we haven't really gotten a babysitter or had a date (we HAVE had a date. three times. In one year). Any minute of home time not spent with my daughter is a waste of precious, precious time.

So, I'm back to begging the universe for just one more day a week. Couldn't the Earth turn just a little slower? Give me one more day for to be with my daughter?
Or vacuum. Dog hair doesn't clean itself, you know.

Sleep

or rather, the lack there of, for me, my husband, and most notably, Sofia. Boy, are you going to be tired of hearing about sleep.

We go from having one great night to one horrible night. Last night falls in the horrible category. She was up, literally, every half an hour. Wanting to nurse. No, insisting to nurse. Loudly. In that cry that makes me want to move mountains to be by her side. Or make it go away, anyway. I acquiesced the first three or four times (really, who's counting) but finally at 3 am, I refused. I held her, I cuddled, I hushed, I gave her her pacifier. I told her it wasn't time to nurse, it was time to sleep, and to my immense surprise, she laid her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. So, I put her in her crib.
You would have thought I was trying to kill her, the noise she made. So I said goodnight and forced myself out the door. Hubby (dear, dear hubby) wakes up. He goes to her room. He brings her to me, asking if she had nursed.
Me: "YES!"
Him: when? It's 3 am already.
Sofia: RRRRROARRRR
Me: at 2:freaking30!
So, he takes her and I hear crying, and I cringe in my bed, forcing myself not to go nurse her. Then, she gets quiet, and eventually I fall asleep.
And then, the dream. I'm on a walk. Across the country. With my sisters. Suddenly, I realize that I left Sofia at home, alone, upstairs. I start running. And running. And not only do I have to run, but I'm being chased. And I have to dodge my predators and get through all these traps. Finally, I almost reach home, and see Sofia coming toward me. Only she isn't whole--something happened to her legs and her body. I had failed her.
Think my subconscious is telling me something?
So, I just don't know what to do. She is ONE.YEAR.OLD. That is plenty old enough not to nurse at night, plenty old enough to sleep all night long. But, I don't want to deny her if she is actually in need. What if she's getting sick and just wants mom? What if her teeth hurt? What if she's missing me and just wants to be reassured? Do I keep up nursing? Do I put my foot down?
All I know is, I get another cup of coffee. at 2pm.

Irony

So, the day I dare speak the words "she slept through the night" we get a night with a one-year-old waking every hour. Bah. I will never utter praise for her sleeping habits again, lest I jinx them. She woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Julio and me? Not so much. Thank goodness it is Friday.
Think work would mind if I just took a short snooze?

Bitter

Sofia has always been a waker. As is, not a sleep-through-the-nighter. She's over one year old now, and consistently waking twice a night. To nurse, always to nurse. Imagine my surprise and glee when I heard the first cries at 6:20 am this morning. That would be one entire night of sleep for me; uninterrupted for 7 hours. Heaven.
So, we nursed, as usual, and she fell back asleep, as usual. I got up, cleaned up the kitchen from last night (yes, we are lazy at times), made the morning pot o' joe, and did my workout.
Afterwards, I poured myself a mug and relaxed in the livingroom with my husband, listening to the radio news, and rolling our eyes at the debacle of the RNC.
Perfect beginning to the day.

If Sofia wakes talking and happy, she's ready for the day. If she wakes in tears, she is ready for a nap. So, when I heard her crying at just past 8, I braced myself. She immediately wanted to nurse, so we snuggled in on the couch. Then, she spotted it.
The mug.
She pulled off, pointing and groping toward the coffee table. I relented, and gave her a sip.
All smiles.
My girl, she needs her morning cuppa, as well. Breast milk, well, that just doesn't cut it. The sweet, nourishing mama love holds nothing over the bitter taste of morning.

Positivity

I've been fresh out of ideas about anything, lately. Life keeps coming full-speed and thinking about anything other than what's for dinner, what errands need running before getting home and playing on the floor with puzzles and books with a certain 1 year old has been pushed to the side. So, when I found a challenge at Zoot's I thought I'd play along.

In the midst of all the polarity and politics and general crankiness, what makes you happy? What caused a laugh or a smile or a feeling of contentedness?

1. My dog eating flies. We had the screen door open this weekend, and it is a hoot to watch my lab hunt flies. Seriously funny.

2. My little girl walking across the livingroom, then divebombing into my arms in a fit of glee.

3. Trying to salsa with my husband in the kitchen. Except that the music was technically merengue.

4. Having morning coffee on the new chairs on my deck.

5. The fact that I have worked out every day this week.

6. Barak Obama (you know I had to be a little political)

7. Rocking my sweaty, sleepy, cuddly baby to sleep.

8. Raspberry jello

9. The thought of seeing not only my parents and sister this weekend, but also some very dear friends.

10. Choosing to be happy.

Inspiration

Did you see it?

The DNC last night was simply incredible. From Al Gore (did you watch his speach? Seriously, go to YouTube, it was fantastic) to Martin Luther King III to our man, Barak Obama, I was purely inspired. These people make me proud to be an American, proud to work hard and live life for those I love. Proud to be a democrat, and certain that Senator Obama needs to be our next president.

The stadium was overflowing. Outside the stadium was overflowing. Times Square in New York looked like New Year's Eve, but with Red, White and Blue. Viewing parties were set up all over the country, including my very own home.

It is time for this country to move in a progressive direction. We need the type of change spelled out last night, and we need it now. We needed it four years ago, we needed it eight years ago. Will this be the year that we get it?

I received a call yesterday asking me to volunteer this weekend for the Obama campaign. I'm conflicted. I have strong opinions, but don't necessarily want to force them on anyone. Going door to door isn't exactly my bag. However, if we get all the progressive-minded people to realize that they ARE progressive and their vote DOES matter, we could make the difference. This inspirational night makes me reconsider returning that phone call. It is time for a change, in the country and in me.

They read part of a proverb last night. "When you pray, move your feet". I love that. It isn't the praying that brings the results, it is the moving. The action. We all need to move our feet.

I Heart Hillary Clinton (but not as much as I heart Obama)

DNC, baby, Yeah!

Have you been watching the shindig? Does it make you all weepy in the eyes and weak in the knees? No? Just me then?

Hillary Clinton kicked ass last night. She was so REAL. and HONEST. and HEARTFELT. I could taste her disappointment at not being the nominee, but could also feel her earnest love for this country and her party. She's accepted she will not be the president inaugurated on January 20, 2009 and will do everything in her power to make sure that Barak Obama IS that president.

I like Hillary Clinton. I was a conflicted primary voter. In the end, I voted for who I believed to be the candidate needed at this time in this place. Not because of his or her gender or his or her race or even because of his or her experience. Because of their ideas, the people they'd place in their cabinet, the voters they could inspire. I simply cannot fathom the voters who went from die-hard Hillary to McCain. The hell? If anybody's policies are on different political spectrums, those two are. In Hillary's words, are you in it for HILLARY or are you in it for your children? Your future?

I am very much looking forward to Bill's speach tonight, and have an excited anticipation of The Man Himself (Mr. Barak Obama) on Thursday night. I love the joy and pure excitement that I feel this year, this election. I love that I'm not the only one.

I am NOT looking forward to Friday, when the spotlight turns on the RNC and McCain's VP. Because after all the weepy eyes and weak knees this week brings? I'm preparing for then nausea and exploding head that next week will usher in. Maybe I'll just keep the TV and computer shut off. Yeah, that would be best.

Starting Again (again)

Today, I actually woke up and got my walk in before I went to work. Of course, I left for said walk an hour and a half later than I'd planned, but still. Awake and walking before the baby woke up. Go me.
I love taking walks with Sofia. I love running with Sofia in the stroller. However, it is rather hard to maintain correct form while pushing a stroller or with a baby on your back. So, by waking up in the morning, I can run by myself, walk using my exercise poles, actually swing my arms and not worry if Sofia dropped her pacifier, or if she's too cold, or if she's getting sunburned. I'm proud that I actually did it, and plan on doing it every morning.
I'm starting again. For real. Again. I am going to do this. I am going to get in shape.
My friend Melissa (a crazy runner--I mean, she did a 10 K the day before her daughter was born) is going to help me train for a 5-10K run. I mean, not a huge goal, but a goal nonetheless, and if someone is giving me assignments, or meeting me someplace, I can't bail. No excuses.
So, I'm fighting the urge to get a chocolate bar and the need for a mid-afternoon sugar rush. I'm choosing to go get some water, and to sit my butt on that exercise ball I keep at work. Maybe I'll do some crunches while I'm there.
There will be progress. Yes, I can.

Oh, HAI! What did you do this weekend?

Clean a little? Play outside?

Go swimming? Visit a friend? Relative?

Poison a pet?

Me too. No, wait, you DIDN'T do that last one? Yeah, me neither. Or I mean, yeah. I did. I did all those things. Not necessarily in that order.

Before I go on, let me tell you, HE IS OKAY. Deep breath. Breathe in the peace, out the guilt.


My dog gets allergies. We've tried a lot of remedies to help him. Apparently he is allergic to August.

We switched his food. We bathe him weekly and put oatmeal, aloe, skin soothing lotion on him (ever lotion a DOG? Yeah, it is hairy and gross), we give him Fish Oil. We give him Benadryl. He's been on prednisone. We've seen a vet. Twice.
Mostly, we are able to control the allergies until the frost, when they go away.

Saturday, we ran out of Benadryl. We were busy. No time for the store, no time to call the vet. He was red. Itchy. His droopy, dark eyes begged for relief.
So. Without thinking (does much thinking happen in this head? Not much lately), we gave him other allergy medicine. The kind with a 'claritin' and a 'D' in it.
Know that ingredients are in there? Let me tell you.
A) an antihistimine. Good for those itchy eyes and red skin.
B) psuedonephrine. Good for killing dogs.

So, yeah. We gave our dog "medicine" that could kill him. How's that for "first, do no harm", huh?

He started acting funny. He couldn't sit still. He couldn't even eat a treat in one sitting. He paced. He circled. We began to suspect foul play.

So, I did what all grown-ups do in this type of situation. I called my mommy. Who told my dad. Who informed me that I, in fact, gave my beloved dog what could be a lethal dose of a doggie poison. Becca, in the living room, with the Claritin.

So, think I should be allowed to continue to mother this young human in my care?

The Party

Only slightly delayed, but well worth the wait, I present to you, "Sofia's First Birthday Party", starring little miss Sofia, the world's sweetest and newest one-year-old!

Photobucket Album

Finding Motivation

So, how does one find motivation?

I'm falling off my work-out wagon again. My get-skinny-before-getting-pregnant-again agenda. I always have an excuse, and most of them are valid! I'm tired. It is dark. The mosquitoes are bad. Sofia woke up three times last night. I have to work late. My sports bras are all dirty. I'll do it later. I'll be better tomorrow. And all of a sudden tomorrow becomes next week and you realize you haven't been on a walk/run in over 7 days. That you are slacking.

So, I need to find my motivation. That part inside of myself that wants this, for me. That wants that extra flubber off my middle and wants to put on a swimming suit and not dash for the cover-up. The me that glances in the mirror and sees what she remembers.

I need to make the time for me. I feel guilty whenever I take a minute to do something that isn't for the house, or for my daughter, or for my husband, or for my dog, or for my extended family, or for a friend, or for my work. Something that benefits ME. When I go for a walk, I always take my daughter. Why? Because she likes it. Because I need time with her. Because I like it. But it is also not just for me that way. When I search for motivation, I think first of how I want my husband to see me (though he always tells me I'm beautiful, and I know he always means it) how I looked when we met. Because that way this journey is also for him, not just for me.

Why is it so hard for me to recognize that I need this? That it is mine, that my health and my self-confidence are what is at stake?

I think moms could do with being more selfish sometimes. In the end, a happy well-rounded mother benefits everyone.

Happy first birthday, my love

Sofia is One Year Old.


Dear Sofia,

Happy Birthday, my girl! Today we celebrate you, your first year with us, and the many years to come. It wasn't too long ago that we met, this twinkle in my eye and flicker in my womb



We watched you grow



and grow



and our anticipation grew along with you.



We named you on the day we found out you were our daughter.



Then, on the most incredible day of my life, August 16th, you slipped out of my womb (or more like wrestled) and will remain permanently in my heart.





We were filled with our fears about being parents, and our wondrous joy at meeting our own personal miracle.



You were so impossibly tiny, so incredibly perfect.



The most beautiful newborn I'd ever seen.






Walking into the house with you for the first time was so surreal. I couldn't believe it. Here you were! Finally, our beautiful daughter in her very own home. Our new family of three. I've never felt so blessed.



Those first days home with you were so much fun. We had lots of visitors, and we all sat around admiring you, being with you, cuddling you, and enjoying each other. You were the star! A sleeping star, but we all loved you so very much.





You grew so quickly, changing every day. We loved to kiss every inch of you!






By two weeks old, you were positively chubby!




In the blink of an eye, you were smiling, and nearly 1 month old!







That fall, you and I went for so many walks together. I loved being out with you, showing you the places I loved and just being together. Always, I talked to you, forever, I loved you. Your personality began to shine through and I'd get glimpses of the person you were becoming. No longer a newborn, but my baby.




At two months, your smile was plentiful, and you started to laugh! I've never heard a more beautiful sound than your precious giggle.





Every stage brought new joys, new discoveries, and lots of love. Each month that passed made me more grateful that I was chosen to be your mother.




You dressed as a pumpkin for Halloween,



and started sitting in your Bumbo, happy with your new view of the world.








Soon, it was winter.


We would bundle up and sit in front of the fire as a family.



You loved your first Christmas tree, and made an adorable elf!



Christmas brought family and fun! You started to show an interest in toys, and began wanting something in your mouth at all times.







We started our own family tradition in Kings' Day. You had a good time eating your new toys and sitting in your high chair for the first time!




And still you kept growing. You could sit by yourself, and loved to read stories and snuggle with Mama and Papa.





We got to visit your family in Venezuela, and you had a great time! You laughed with everyone, and were able to swim in the ocean! The sand was your favorite part.





You really started to eat foods other than breastmilk, and we discovered that you absolutely adore berries!




The winter was long, and I ached to get back outside, for spring and flowers. It was so fun to introduce you to grass and playgrounds!






Spring slipped into summer, and you began to really explore your world. You started to crawl, to stand up on things, to express your opinions. And girl! You have a lot of opinions!



You had your first boat ride, and your first dip in a lake.




I turned around, you were eleven months old, started to take some steps, cutting your first teeth, and rapidly becoming a toddler.






You have given us the most incredible year. I still can hardly believe that you are my daughter, that I've been blessed so much. I love waking up to you in the morning, I love giving you a bath at night. I love your kisses, your wave, your babbles and your very first words. I love how you read stories, and how you kiss babies and kids. I love your laugh. Most of all, I love you, my big one year old girl. I am so excited for your second year and all the years beyond.