Saturday, February 15, 2014

Feeling sorry for yourself

Dear Lucy,

Before mommy continues with these letters, you need to hear something. It's in our human nature to only think about ourselves. It comes very naturally. It also is very easy for us to feel sorry for ourselves. Don't allow that! The minute you begin to feel sorry for yourself, you lose true perspective. Life is too short for that. Love God, love others, and enjoy life. I love you just about better than anything.

Love,
Mommy

Thursday, February 13, 2014

About mommy

About your mommy:

  I'm 27 years old, was born in Chicago, IL and adopted at birth. Mommy came from a very small family, just a mom, a dad, and me. My parent's names were Robert and Jean. You will not get to meet them, they both passed away from cancer before you were born. I had a relatively normal childhood, we were just an average family with our own ups and downs. My mom somewhat wore the pants in the family, my dad thought he did, but it was your grandmother that kept it all together. Our biggest issue was my father's alcoholism. He caused a major strain on our family. I will write a letter about that at another time.

When I was five years old, something extremely bad happened. Something that I have carried with me my whole life. It's something that I need to tell you, mainly in hopes of teaching you how to protect yourself. I will tell you everything when the time is right. Just know, mommy will always protect you, and do whatever I can to keep that type of evil from harming you.

We moved from Chicago to a small town in Tennessee. Upon starting school, I was made fun of for having a northern accent and worked hard to get rid of it. Don't do that. Don't change who you are. I like you just the way you are. Shortly after moving, my dad became sick. I don't remember much about his illnesses, but I do remember him being on an oxygen tank and I remember when he quit smoking. Then came the cancer... I will never forget that.

The fall after my fifteenth birthday, my dad started talking strangely. He developed a very raspy voice that sounded like Don Vito from The Godfather. He also started suffering from severe headaches, and by the end of October of that year, my mother had to take him to the ER because of one. I was so young, I was 15, but I was still a child in so many ways. I was very independent, my mom taught me how to be, but I was still not familiar with real illness or death. While we were at the ER, they took my dad for CT scans, while my mother and I sat together in a small examining room. We didn't speak. There was a sense of fear in that room. It was already present. Before my father returned from the scans, I remember my mom answering a phone that was attached to the wall. It was my father's primary care physician. I believe that was when my mom found out. I don't think a doctor ever came in to tell her. I just remember her face when she answered that phone. She turned gray and panic began to set in.

My mom and I headed home that night, leaving my father alone at the hospital. That night my mom, very angrily, told me that my dad had lung cancer and brain mets, which meant he had lung cancer that spread to his brain. He also had some type of tumor in his throat. I know they told my mom it didn't look good, and it was only a matter of months. Oh my sweet girl, that first night... We hadn't been home long,  mom asked if I would sleep with her, as a sort of comfort, little did I know how much it would mean to me as an adult. I remember lying down beside her, but I didn't sleep long. I awoke to her screaming and crying in the kitchen. I could hear her falling to her knees, she was screaming at God, she was begging God... I will never forget her voice that night. She was on her knees pleading, "God, why oh God why... Please no...GOD!" I went to the kitchen to see if I could help her... When I saw her there, sobbing next to the sink, I knew then things were going to change.

After four and half months of chemo and radiation, my dad passed away. When I saw my mom right after, she was wearing some sort of denim dress, it must have belonged to another family member. It wasn't typical of her clothing. Maybe someone brought it to her in the hospital, I don't know. The chest of that denim jumper was soaked in tears. She looked angry, she looked lost, she didn't look like my mother anymore. Really, she started to lose the look of my mom at the beginning of his cancer, but it wasn't until it was all over, that I no longer recognized her. I remember my father's wake and funeral and I remember going to a small diner after the funeral with my father's family. My mom and I were sitting next to each, surrounded by many family members, but still to this day, it felt like it was only her and I. I was wearing a new black dress that my mom bought for the funeral, and I had spilt ketchup on it and was trying to clean it off, at that moment my mom placed her hand on my knee. I looked up at her and she just barely smiled. I saw my mother in that smile. Deep in that shell of a person was my mother. I knew, by that smile, that she was saying it's just you and me now.

My father passed away in March, I turned sixteen in June, and in October of that same year, I was diagnosed with Polycystic kidney disease. I wasn't sick, I actually had felt fine. I wanted to miss school, so I told my mother my stomach hurt. She said if my stomach was hurting that bad, I'd need to go to the doctor. By the way kiddo, don't lie. It's not becoming of person and it makes you unreliable. It makes people question your every word, and distances yourself from reality. Be better than that. So, I headed to the doctor where I had to continue my lie and told them I had stomach pains but no vomiting, nausea, or diarrhea. Thinking it was my gallbladder, they sent me for an ultrasound and an Upper GI. The Upper GI was disgusting. You basically drink crushed chalk mixed with a drop or two of water and eat unflavored pop rocks. Then you roll around on a table while they X-ray your stomach, as they instruct you to burp, fart, and make every other attractive sound your body is capable of producing.

The ultrasound was much easier. I just laid back while they squirted cold gel on my abdomen and scanned my stomach. Everything was going normal until they got to my kidneys, at that point the ultrasound tech called in another tech to look at the screen, then one of the techs asked if I had had a family history of kidney disorders. At that time, there was not. A few days later, I went to my doctor for the test results. The Upper GI showed that I had acid reflux. I remember my doctor taking a really long time to explain to me what acid reflux was, she even drew a picture. I was sixteen. I was more than capable of understanding, but I know she did it because she dreaded telling me the results of the ultrasound. She is an amazing woman and I have the utmost respect for her. She then went on to diagnose me with PKD.

Life went on... I lived life like any another teen. I went to school, worked a part-time job, and fishing through the angst that is teenage years. You will spend a good majority of your life trying to figure out who you are. It starts early and I'm not sure when it really ends. The rest of my teen years were pretty uneventful, until I turned eighteen. Shortly after starting college, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. That's somewhat of a long story, I'll write you about that later.

At nineteen, mommy met daddy. The first time your father ever laid eyes on me, he gave me stink face and scoffed. That's pretty much the basis of our relationship. By the time you read these, you will understand. Your dad and I are two completely different people, but at the end of the day, he is my best friend. He always will be. No matter what may happen, what changes may occur, he will always be my best friend first and foremost. Daddy saw me at my worse and still stuck around. The love I have for your father is so different than the standard spousal love. He's my family. Your daddy says we are like siblings. I think he has issues. Haha!

Daddy and I dated for four years, and as I write this, we have been together for eight. During those first four years, mommy lost her way for awhile. I had to grow up so fast and never had sight of being young and carefree. I truly don't believe God ever called for my life to be lived that way. I say this because at twenty-two, my everything dissipated. My life steered completely off track, and really did not straighten out again until you.

On August 28th 2008, my beautiful, kind, loving mother was diagnosed with stage 3c ovarian cancer. God, it still doesn't seem real. My world came crumbling down before me. She was family, she was best friend, she was my mother, and for the first time ever, I was at risk of losing that stability I had always known. This aspect of my life isn't so cut and dry. It's the whole reason I am who I am today and it will take a couple of letters to completely sort it out, mainly because I'm still sorting it out internally. I still cry about your losing your grandmother, I can get upset about something and immediately go to call her, knowing very well she won't answer the phone. I've called her number a few times since she died and one time received a call back from the new owner of her phone number, I never called it again after that. It's been over three years, and she still plays such a key part in my life.

Eight months before your grandmother passed away, Daddy and I decided to get married. We didn't have a "real" wedding by today's standards, and instead we went to the courthouse. No, mommy wasn't pregnant. Even though that question was asked a lot. My mommy was too sick to help plan a wedding, no less sit through a whole day of wedding bliss. So, we made the best decision for our lives. I don't think I would change the way things were done.

My whole life my main goal was to get married and have a family. I always knew that's what I wanted. I don't think there is anything else in my life that I've ever been so sure about. Your father on the other hand, never really desired the "typical family" lifestyle. That causes us to clash quite often. But know this, above all your daddy loves you so very much. He will always love his little girl. Well, when mommy was nineteen, she was told she would never be able to have children, adoption was our only option. Shortly after getting married, someone, we will call her Carrie, sent mommy a text. She told mommy she was pregnant and wanted us to adopt the baby. We immediately went the next day to see Carrie and the father of the unborn child. Everything went beautifully. Then a couple of weeks after that, mommy received another text stating that Carrie had changed her mind, and felt she needed to keep her baby. Mommy was devastated. That's also another long story. Our struggle with the botched adoption, us attempting to become foster parents, it goes on and on. I will tell you about that when it's time.

After the failed adoption, it really hit me that my mom was getting worse and I knew she would not be able to see a grandchild if it didn't happen soon. I went to daddy and discussed the option of trying to conceive. It wasn't just that I had been told I would never be able to have children, it was also that is was very dangerous for my health because of the kidney disease, but I had faith things could possibly work in our favor. I prayed to God and made a promise, I told God if He would allow me to have one healthy baby, I wouldn't rock the boat again. I also told God we would try for one month, and if I did not conceive that I would realize it was not His will.

On May 10th 2010, while on vacation in Tybee Island with your godparents, I found out I was pregnant. I actually got pregnant on the first try. That is by far the greatest thing that has ever happened to mommy. God is so beautiful and the most important thing I can teach you, is to love our Father. He will not forsake you.

My dear girl, I knew you before I knew you. I knew you were my little girl, I knew you'd be named Lucy, and I knew you'd have my mother's green eyes. You were light in such a dark time. God blessed me with you. I pray I can always be the mother He would want me to be.

Mommy had a very easy pregnancy. All of these women that suffer miserably through pregnancy make me queasy just hearing their horror stories. Thank you for going easy on mommy. Everything seemed to turn around but then by July of 2010, my mom made the decision to stop chemo. I decided to take a leave of absence from work to help take care of her. I truly thought she would get better and start chemo again. Little did I know...

On August 19th, my mommy left this world. I was forever changed. My whole family, the person that had held my hand my whole life, the person that taught me how to walk, how to talk, how to love, was gone. As if she had never been here, she was just gone. I went home after she passed away, laid down around 6:00pm and just cried. I cried until I feel asleep. I only slept about two hours that whole night. You stayed awake with me though kiddo. You kicked mommy all night long. As if you were saying, it's you and me now.

Everything went by so quickly, I can't even begin to think about it all at this time, but on December 17th, I was sent to the hospital to be induced and four days later, my beautiful girl was born. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid my eyes on. She were just perfect. Ten little fingers, ten little toes, the cutest butt I will ever see, and the most beautiful green eyes. You were mine and I was yours. We belong together sweet girl.

I will go into further details on a lot of these times. I started this blog in the hopes of letting you know everything about our lives, but I also had hopes of helping people with my kidney disease. But I've decided to go back to my original idea. I love you sweet girl. You are my perfect, yet sassy, girl. I adore you.

I love you just about better than anything.

Love,
Mommy