This is our oldest son, Andrew. Today would have been his 36th birthday. He was our first child. Just like many young adults, we were “kinda” prepared to become parents. I was 26, Tom was 27. We had been married almost three years. We had our own home, good jobs, baby clothes, a dog-eared copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” (this was pre-internet) a nursery full of baby furniture and families that were very excited for us. My pregnancy was unremarkable. But nobody is ever prepared to become the parents of a severely developmentally disabled child.
Manila Sandwich
The nest emptied. The parents moved in, then out...then basically became my life. Hilarity, frustration and madness ensued. I went from a stay-at-home mom to a stay-at-home daughter. Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing.
Thursday, November 17, 2022
Happy 36th Birthday, Andrew!
This is our oldest son, Andrew. Today would have been his 36th birthday. He was our first child. Just like many young adults, we were “kinda” prepared to become parents. I was 26, Tom was 27. We had been married almost three years. We had our own home, good jobs, baby clothes, a dog-eared copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” (this was pre-internet) a nursery full of baby furniture and families that were very excited for us. My pregnancy was unremarkable. But nobody is ever prepared to become the parents of a severely developmentally disabled child.
Tuesday, November 17, 2020
Patience, Perseverance and Acceptance
Every year I write something for my oldest son’s birthday. Today, November 18th, Andrew would have been 34 years old. Trust me when I say that I’ve written everything possible. I’ve written this and this and this and you can watch this. And my beautiful daughter has written these.
This year, I want to talk about the limits of medicine and how, despite our many advances in healthcare and obstetrics, sh*t still happens. Somehow, in this year of a major worldwide healthcare crisis, this seems relevant.
A couple weeks before Andrew was born, a friend’s sister had a stillbirth. I remember thinking she must have done something wrong or have had less than great medical care. Neither was true. I was 26 years old and hadn’t yet experienced a lifetime of understanding that, sometimes, the worst can happen to the best people – DESPITE doing everything right and getting the best care possible.
If you know Andrew’s story, you know that my pregnancy was “unremarkable.” I was very healthy and so was he. In 1986, you didn’t have ultrasounds unless you had a high-risk pregnancy, which I didn’t. (I will tell you that had they done an ultrasound before Andrew was born, they might have seen the “vesa previa” that ruptured when labor started, thereby saving his life. But it truly wasn’t called for.)
Still, we can’t rewrite history. We can only learn from it. What I know, 34 years later, is that being Andrew’s mom was something that changed me and my family forever. Even though they weren’t born, it changed my younger children. To this day, they have a more mature and compassionate view of life than some of their peers. I also know that I wouldn’t trade the lessons we learned or the love and grief that we experienced for anything in the world. It’s part of our story, forever etched on our hearts.
But back to the medicine. I remember after Andrew was born, it seemed that some of the hospital personnel were holding their breath waiting to see if we were going to pursue a malpractice suit. After all, a baby was permanently brain damaged beyond comprehension. But Tom and I never considered it because, at that time, it wasn't preventable. When you’re in the midst of a crisis like this, you make decisions from your gut. We looked every OB/GYN and Neonatologist and NICU Nurse in the eyes and knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they did the best they could and wanted anything but the outcome we had. The best we could do was draw from their experiences and try to give Andrew the best life possible. That’s when the decisions got really hard. I mean gut-wrenching hard.
Looking back, there seemed to be a cloud of grace hanging over us. Family flocked to our side to lift us up and support us. Caregivers made sure to tell us how beautiful Andrew was despite how seriously brain-damaged he was. Even clergy tried their best to give us answers that we wanted to hear. (Hindsight is 20/20 and these were probably the least helpful in the long run, but they tried.)
I guess my point is to say that we are all humans – all of us – moms, dads, doctors, nurses, scientists. We only know what we know. We can be confident and informed and make choices based on lots of research. (And let me stress that this is how decisions SHOULD be made – with LOTS of research.)
But sometimes, we have very little control over situations that, for most people, are very ordinary. Sometimes, extraordinary things happen – bad things – for no damn good reason. I’m pretty sure everyone who has been through a cancer diagnosis can attest to this. You can certainly spend time asking “why me?” But you quickly learn that that does nothing. You still have to move forward. I guess if you’re a person of faith, you can say “everything happens for a reason.” I’ll tell you a secret – I don’t believe that. I don’t. I don’t believe God gives people death or torture or cancer or brain-damaged babies for a “reason.” I’m not letting him off the hook. I’m just saying it’s not that simple.
We Americans like to think we have control over everything in our lives. There’s nothing more humbling and eye-opening than having that control ripped away. We recently got a puppy and any control we had over our empty nest was ceded to this adorable, furry, sometimes infuriating little creature. At first, I fought it and decided I’d train the dog to be PERFECT. I quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen. Once I relaxed and tried to “make the best of the mess,” things got a little better.
Of course, I’m not comparing parenting a severely developmentally disabled child to “parenting” a puppy, but the unexpected chaos and life disruption is not without its similarities. Suffice it to say that life throws you curveballs, some of which are beyond unexpected. In a year in which everything is chaos and disruption and normality has been ripped away, I’m trying to use the lessons that parenting Andrew taught me – patience, perseverance and acceptance. For all of these lessons, I’m eternally grateful.
Saturday, September 26, 2020
The Interpreter of Perceived Slights
No, my friends, what I do is wake up insanely worried and think of all the ways that my feelings are hurt. Yep, total waste of time. I rerun scenarios through my head where a friend didn’t say hello and I assume it’s my fault. I think about how I’m always the one reaching out to a friend and immediately assume my overtures might be unwelcome. And, worst of all, I overthink any and all social media comment interactions and responses. It’s a torturous game, especially at 4:20 am when I can’t turn my brain off.
I have always been a worrier and my guilt response is strong. So strong that I often joke about titling my memoir: “I Feel Bad About Everything.” The only person that feels worse about everything is my Mom, so you know that it’s genetic.
We’re living in an incredibly divisive time. I’m sure I’m not the only one weighing and measuring social media interactions. And, to be honest, I’m doing a bit of judging, which is never good.
I realize that the core of all of this is social media. For all the good that it CAN do – reuniting old friends, allowing friends all around the world to stay easily connected, creating a groundswell of support for good causes – it can also be absolutely the WORST. I have friends, SMART friends who have tried social media and immediately realized that they couldn’t handle it. One of my very best friends said: “I constantly felt like my life fell short of everyone else’s life.” This friend is an amazing person with SO many friends. If she felt like that, imagine how those of us with smaller social circles are feeling.
I know the answer here is less social media. (Yes, I’m addicted. Yes, I should quit. No, I problably won’t.)
So here’s my action plan: 1) Cut back on social media. 2) Assume everyone’s intentions are good. 3) Mind my own damn business.
We’ll see how it goes.
Thursday, September 17, 2020
Why I'm Voting for Joe
Very shortly, many of us will receive our mail-in ballots for the November election. Today, I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to tell you why I’m voting for Joe Biden and I’m going to ask and beg and plead for you to do the same. Yes, I am totally violating my own “no politics” rule on social media. (Yes, I’ve posted on social justice issues, but almost never on politics.)
I believe voting is a deeply personal right and privilege, so I’ve never asked someone who they are voting for. I also don’t believe in shaming people for who they vote for. (And please do not do that in the comments. Not cool.)
For all of my adult life, I’ve voted Republican. I did so until 2016. In 2016, everything changed – the candidates, the landscape, our tolerance for intolerable behavior…the list goes on and on. It was brutal and, unfortunately, it still is. I think you’ll agree that we live in a deeply divided nation.
I’m voting for Joe Biden because I’m hoping for a return to respectability, truth, the common good and decency. I’m hoping that the office of the president will no longer be used as a prop to stage political conventions. I’m hoping that name-calling and middle-of-the-night tweets announcing policy changes will go away. We need structure and accountability. We need an administration that cares about people from all races, backgrounds, sexual orientations, political affiliations, religions (or lack thereof) and income levels. We need someone that knows that diversity – in our boardrooms and our government - is of the utmost importance. We need someone who believes that science is absolutely imperative and if we don’t listen to scientists, our world and our children’s future is in grave danger.
I believe that Joe Biden will stop sending mixed and conflicting messages about the Coronavirus pandemic. He will gather true experts to help us heal, do what’s needed and move on.
I’m hoping that we will once again have someone who is a president for ALL the people, not just those that attend rallies and deify him or her. We need someone that will reach across the aisle and bring our elected leaders together to stop lobbing insults and start creating legislation for all of us.
I also think the fact that Joe chose, as a running mate, a woman of color is incredibly important. That sets a groundbreaking precedent and example for young girls who dream of being leaders. Shouldn’t our government look more like our country does?
Is Joe Biden a perfect candidate? No. NOBODY IS. But I feel strongly that he’s the type of person that would sit down with someone and actually LISTEN to their opinions, even if they disagree with him. That’s what we need more of than anything right now.
Oh and if you’ve been getting those postcards that say that he and Kamala Harris are socialists, that’s a lie. It’s NOT true. He’s also not going to defund the police or take your guns away. He’s not.
Look, I’m WAY out over my skis here. So far out, I may regret this and end up being the social media version of the guy in the Wide World of Sports intro. (Young kids, you’ll have to look that up.) In my everyday life, I avoid conflict at all costs. Maybe it doesn’t seem like it here, but I’m incredibly sensitive to criticism and spend way too many late nights worrying about social media interactions.
But there’s SO much at stake here. Our country needs healing, and I think a Joe Biden/Kamala Harris administration can do that…or at least start. Thanks for reading. Please be kind to each other.
Monday, July 20, 2020
Pandemic Spleen Vent
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Helpless
Sunday, March 1, 2020
The Ending of Friendships
Lifetime friends, mostly.
I have a few. I feel blessed. But there are a few that, long ago, were close to me and no longer are. In fact two were in my wedding party. Last week, I sent an email to wish one of them happy birthday and my email was returned because the email address was disabled. Honestly, it was kind a kick in the gut. I knew our friendship had fallen away but this seemed like a death knell.
I blame myself. (Full disclosure, I blame myself for almost everything.) I wasn't a great friend during the year that I was engaged. I guess that stuck with her...forever. I'm sad, because I like her as a person. She's smart and interesting. I did see her since our wedding and spent a lovely day reconnecting with her and her family in California. I can't help but feel really, really hurt. Part of me wants to reach out and apologize and say: "Please take me back. I promise I've improved."
But part of me is also pissed. Because as a wise person once said: "We are never as bad as the worst thing we've ever done." I was a complete moron when I was a young adult. But I wasn't the only complete moron young adult. And perhaps I should think that maybe this person isn't as great of a friend as I thought she was. Why can't she accept my flaws?
The answer is that as you get older, through circumstance or choice, you may add and subtract friends from your life. Life gets complicated. You grow out of some friends and grow into some others. Sometimes it's just people that connect with you because of what you're going through at the time.
I think the real problem is that I have a very hard time saying goodbye. I do not like the finality of things. I hate the end of vacations. I hate the end of events. There is something about endings that is really rough on my psyche. Maybe I need to learn to accept endings. Or maybe I need to look forward to new beginnings. I'm honestly not sure.