Tuesday, July 28, 2020
Busy
Sometimes I dream of the Liberty we had. In my dream she is supposed to be inside playing, instead she is high up in a tree. Her hair is in pig-tails and she is wearing her Crocodile Hunter outfit. There are dinosaurs in her pockets. Or laying on the trampoline with her dogs. Or she's built a blanket fort and is singing to her stuffed animals, or her dinosaurs. Whatever is in this version of the Liberty dream, you can assume she is doing her own thing and she is busy. And I am busy as well. I prayed several times for this dream to change and that I would go and watch her play (or join her). Sometimes it happens.
I was not a child who could be still. Ever. From what I have been told, I was busy. About the only things that seemed to settle me were music or sitting on Grandma's lap while she read to me. Beautiful Mariah could sit and play or cuddle and watch a movie- most of the time. Like the wind, she could have some super active times, but her movies would keep her attention for long periods of time. Now, Liberty. Sweet Liberty was always busy as well. She climbed out of her crib at nine months old. She was uncontainable from then on. Grandma told me Libby's truth was in her name. I had claimed her business when I named her. That hasn't changed much.
Even now, Liberty is busy. Her body is stiff and mostly unmoveable. She doesn't have control over it, but her body continues to move. All the time. Sleeping, wide awake, eating, laughing, or pottying her body is moving to its own rhythm. She has Deep Brain Stimulators, one of each side of her brain to calm her body down. She has a Baclofen pump that is routed through her spinal column giving her muscle relaxant continuously throughout the day. She takes a Parkinson's med five times a day to slow the jerkiness of her muscles. All of that and yet she is busy.
During this time of quarantine, I have been able to see Libby for who she is now. She is still sweet and funny we just have to pay attention to when she can let it out. She gets impatient at times. She is sappy and lovey at times. She is tired a lot of the time. Blessed by this time with her, I have been able to get to know and see her for who she is now. This is not the child I had ten years ago. Or five. Or two years ago. She is different. She has to be. Her body and brain has betrayed her, and all of us, in many ways. I could be angry and sad, so very sad, at this betrayal, but that has consumed far too much energy already. I can see her for the completely different and beautiful person she is.
She still has a voice, of sorts. Even though we are down to one-syllable words generally as responses. I miss getting to actually converse with her. So much. I'd much rather talk with her instead of talking for her, but here we are.
Please do not think this is a sad post. It really isn't. For the first time in my life as a mother, I have been home with my kid. I never got to be home with Mariah. I started working full time when Mariah was five weeks old. I returned to work when Libby was six weeks old. I have never not had at least one full-time job or at least two part-time jobs. I missed so much of my girls working for us. So much. I regret the time I missed with them, but I did what I thought I needed to do to provide for them. I now know this regular mom guilt. I was busy.
This time that quarantine has given us has been a blessing. I believe this time has prepared me in some ways for our future with Liberty. I feel more intuned to her body than I have in a very long time. Life may not ever be this slow again. Hopefully never again due to a viral pandemic! I have learned so much from this time and do not want everything to go back to normal. Our normal was already wonky, and I look forward to creating a new normal. A normal that is slower in some ways.
**We have been converting some of our family movies to digital downloads. I was able to actually one video with Liberty playing. For years, I could not even look at her younger pictures. I feared I would cleave in two. The half of me that is Liberty's would implode. But I didn't tear apart. I saw the pictures from before. Before the illness. Before her body quit. I watched and cried. I let myself just cry and laugh and cry some more. I sat in that revelry. The beautiful sadness that is this kind of change in a child, or any loved one. I sat there and watched. And it hurt to my core, but I did not rip apart. I needed to not be busy and simply see her when she was. For who she was so that I could see her more clearly today. Isn't that crazy?!
Let's think now about how to not be so busy.
Be blessed and stay safe. Know that you loved and needed. We all need each other.
Thursday, July 2, 2020
Zombie Apocalypse be Damned
We had a plan (I had a plan) for the predicted Zombie Apocalypse for a long time. The plan included using me as the scavenger and Rachael as the defender of our home. We would keep the girls and ourselves safe that way. In the perfect scenario, Mariah and her Derrick would be home safe and sound with us. Linda, Jennifer and her crew would make their way here and we would hole up together. We had food and space to keep us all safe- wait, everyone’s got their own life now. And then the Big Q happened. Quarantine due to COVID 19 happened and everyone was shut into their own home bases.
We were both teaching our classes using Google Classroom and Google Meets. Libby didn't understand why she wasn't getting to see her people, except weekly visits from Grandma Linda. The feeding, medicating, lifting, bathing, adjusting, moving, tube feeding and potty changing schedule stayed pretty much the same. Except now, we were bouncing into the front room to get Libby taken care of. Keeping her on her regular school schedule helped keep her in stasis; I think. And keeping a schedule keeps me sane. (I have changed Libby while on a Google Meet with my a group of my students. No body parts were shown, yet I was mortified.)
And then one morning after six weeks of mandated quarantining at home we realized the zombies had been attacking already. Rachael had to drive herself to the local clinic. We thought she had a UTI. Two weeks more and she was driving herself to the emergency room in the middle of the quarantine when NO ONE wants to be in an emergency room. She was now through two rounds of antibiotics and was still in extremely progressive pain.
She was alone. Libby and I were alone at home waiting for news. This was excruciating.
She had an initial emergency surgery to get what we now know was part of the infected diverticulae removed from her intestines. Six days later she was taken in for a six plus hour longer surgery and over eight inches of her colon was removed.
Because of quarantine none of us could go and visit. I wasn't given face to face directions on how to take care of her. I was allowed to drop off clothes. I also included notes to her from Libby and I, as well as graduation announcements from her beloved students. She’s now been home almost nine weeks.
So. It’s been eight weeks for my own personal apocalypse. No zombies, just several wrenches thrown into our ever spinning world. It’s not the zombies that are so terrifying, the truth is it is the fear of the unknown that so many fear.
She had an initial emergency surgery to get what we now know was part of the infected diverticulae removed from her intestines. Six days later she was taken in for a six plus hour longer surgery and over eight inches of her colon was removed.
Because of quarantine none of us could go and visit. I wasn't given face to face directions on how to take care of her. I was allowed to drop off clothes. I also included notes to her from Libby and I, as well as graduation announcements from her beloved students. She’s now been home almost nine weeks.
We have learned a lot since Rachael’s surgery including how much we need Rachael to be healthy. And how much she was missed while in the hospital. We’ve learned to be gentle to each other.
We’ve learned how to close down our classes using remote learning. (Although saying goodbye to this group of students may take several more years. These sweet birds were released before we were ready!)
This illness and then surgery was a hard blow. And ugly blow, but like so many other things we’ve been able to move on. We had to move forward, and I feel blessed to have the chance to keep going.
Today is eight weeks. Eight weeks since her surgery and I am so very proud of how determined she is to regain her health. Since her release from the hospital, she’s slowly begun walking loops around our block and has now returned to loops around the school track. We’ve been able to take Liberty to Cook Children’s to get her Baclofen pump refilled. Only one parent allowed with the child in the hospital, so Rachael waited outside. Make several of her own doctor appointments and a feeding tube replacement in Amarillo for Libby. We were also able to get away for two quick nights- thank you!!
So. It’s been eight weeks for my own personal apocalypse. No zombies, just several wrenches thrown into our ever spinning world. It’s not the zombies that are so terrifying, the truth is it is the fear of the unknown that so many fear.
I’ve learned that even in the most terrifying times, my faith is what holds me and gives me the strength to fight. To keep moving. Because truly, what is the other option? Hide under the bed? Nope. Got to keep getting up and kicking ass everyday.
So apocalypse be damned.
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