On a poop and a prayer.

Tommy has a problem. A pooping problem.


Tommy has a pooping issue, thus prompting us to go to the Pediatrician, who then ordered an X-ray of his abdomen, which then showed the enormous poop build up, and subsequently directed us to administer a series of enemas (five).... Oh..okay.





After Josh negotiated with a 5 year old for several hours, he was finally able to "get it done". After which, still did not induce a BM, and then Tommy started vomiting profusely. I came home from work, called the after hours nurse hot line, and was directed to go to the ER. So, after hours of waiting for a BM, we went to the ER to see a DR.





An IV was put in (horrible...with Tommy screaming, "Why are they hurting me?!"), blood taken out for testing, and another X-ray was completed. I really felt this entire time that we would go, they would say, it's still poop. And we would go home to face more enemas and poopy pull ups. Innocently I looked up at the doctor as he entered the room, and full of hope to go home, and sleep, I waited for his response.


"Blah blah blah medical stuff (did I mention it was about 4am now?) blah bladdity blah, white blood cells elevated, blah, stool up to his lungs, blah, Dell Children's Hospital". Wait. What? What did he say?

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I wonder if the doctor was even aware of the nervous shift in the room.
"So, I will need to drive him over there?" I asked hopefully. "No, he will need to be taken by ambulance, as he has an IV", he replied. Ooohhhhhhhhh........
As I tried to maintain control, a slew of emotions flooded with me. From what seemed like an small problem, had escalated to grand poop proportions, and I started to lose my grip. Tommy was still sleeping in the bed, thankfully unaware of the situation.

I can't begin to explain the feelings of anguish and heartache as I watch him being strapped on to the gurney and taken to the ambulance. I must have looked more upset then I thought, as the EMT pulled me aside and asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, just that my entire world was being placed in their hands. I slowly reached up and grabbed the EMT's collar, and whispered calmly, "if anything happens or you turn on your lights while driving, I will cut you." He reached up and gently pried my hand from his coat, and gave me a sympathetic look. Seriously. Driving behind them, I felt the tension and did my best not to cry and swerve all over the road. It's difficult to drive straight and shake a fist at the window to remind them to take care of my baby.

I should have just gone to Dell Children's Hospital in the first place, but really...didn't want to go back there. Just thinking about it makes my chest tighten. They are just wonderful at that hospital, and check on you every 10 minutes, compared to every 10 hours at Seton it seemed.

After completing the CAT scan, it was determined that there was no blockage, no bowl issues, no appendix issues, just a belly full of crap. Ugh. And then about 6 nurses and I sat on him to administer another enema, and for the next 5 hours, I was elbow deep in poo. It was a crappy day. Literally. He finally got out a turd the size of a tennis ball, and they let us leave. (Yes, they almost admitted him to the hospital for constipation). And just in case you were pondering to yourself, and counting the hours, yes, I was still awake and functioning at about 1pm, after not sleeping all night. And I still had to go to work after this. Boooooo.

I am still in shock about the escalation of the issue. I feel like such a failure as a parent. I can't get my child to poop successfully. I grew up with these issues, and I feel so bad for him. I just get frustrated and exhausted with thinking about what I can do to remedy this situation. I get frustrated with Tommy, and then I feel guilty. Why can't he just go poo!?

I don't know, we are still trying. But this was for sure a very long and crappy time. Emotionally, it was tough. I freak out when I think of anything happening to Tommy. But I know that we had to take care of him, and get him help, no matter where the location. But seriously, do you think God laughs when I pray desperately for poop to come for hours and hours? Even just a little snicker? I mean, come on, it has to be a teeny bit humorous when I am begging and praying on the floor for a smidge, a push, a drop of poop. People pray for all kinds of things. But bowel movements? Sighhhh. A prayer for poo.

Oh the hormones.....

Really just once, I would like to place my hand on someone (my husband preferably) and have my feelings transfer to that person in an M. Night Shyamalan fashion. With cinematic climax, suddenly the person (Josh) receiving my feelings would tense up, head snap back, as if possessed by a strange bolt of electricity. Then my dear husband (that's would could use this the most) would suddenly realize that I'm not bat shit crazy, and tenderly stroke my hair while he whispered sweetly in my ear, "I understand everything now, my precious wife, let me rub your feet and make you dinner".

But, that is very unlikely to happen.

And for as many times as I have glared at him, just once hoping that my feelings would somehow travel across the room and into his thick skull....still nothing. However, I feel he might be more concerned about the times he catches me staring at him, seemly chanting to myself. Awkward sideways glances....wondering where the nearest instrument of self defense would be....

Thus are the life and times of a pregnant woman.

I can't even begin to describe the feelings, the overwhelming roller coaster of emotions. I wish that I could garner enough emotional strength to properly deal with and act accordingly with the ebb and flow of turbulent feelings.

At this moment, today, I am feeling overwhelmed. Scared, lost, sad... I am a procrastinator by birth, and with such, I am just dealing with my lack of actions. I just wish that someone could tell me the right decision to make. I would love to talk to my Mom about what I should do, what the right path is. But, unfortunately that is not an option, thus making me sad. And there I go crying again.

Yes, I am pregnant again. Moments of great happiness over take me and I am consumed with anticipation about having another baby. I cannot wait, I keep imagining what it will be like. This little blessing is a girl. I still feel in shock about that news. I was resigned to the fact that I was going to just be the mother of boys. But, there in the picture, was a girl.
In some ways, I feel that this will be easier. That I will be less upset because it will not be as easy to draw comparisons between her and Riley. In other ways, I feel less ready to open myself up to the possible pain or hurt if something happens. I would love to put Tommy in a bubble and not let him out. The thought of him going to a big school scares the crap out of me. I picture all the bad things, but then sensibly, I understand all of the wonderful good things too.

I just want to crawl in bed and stay there for quite some time. That's how I feel today.
And on top of everything, my cooking has been crappy lately. One meal was barely edible.

Oh the hormones!

A Symphony of Analogies

Driving in the car seems to be the catalyst for my brain to think, think, think away. Busy at work, aside from the moments someone attempts to engage in conversation about my issues, I never seem to think about it. "It" being my loss. When I am home, I am usually tired from work, and like to spend time with Tommy, and he doesn't give in to my moments where I just want to crawl into bed with the covers over my head. So, my alone time comes when I commute to and from work. During this time, I seem to think about my day, conversations, issues, and Riley.



Some moments I feel like the thought of Riley is so far away, a fuzzy memory in a distant place. Sometimes a word, phrase or thought will draw me back into a moment around his death, and I can't escape the overwhelming feeling of loss. I remember bits and pieces, like a whirling thought tornado in my mind, some mental pictures sharp and in focus, others distorted and torn. I brew, harbor and obsess over a thought, racking back and forth in my mind. I have conversations with myself (not crazy ones) just conversations where I come up with cute analogies, For Death. Grief. Loss.



I feel the process of "dealing with grief" is like moving a mountain size pile of rocks from one location to another. Some rocks are small, pebble size, and you can easily manage them with no help. Some rocks are the size of boulders. To try to move the mountain of rocks by yourself, in one try is impossible. You have to be willing to accept help when you need it to move the large rocks you can't move by yourself. (therapy, friends, family). You have to work the mountain down, little by little, until you look back and realize that you accomplished it. A look back and you see how much work you have done to get yourself past the emotional trials, and from moving all those rocks, you are stronger. When I have issues working through grief, I feel like I just walk up and kick the pile of rocks, sending them flying about, making more of a mess. For me, I feel like a lot of the time I just put a big blanket over the pile, and pretend that it's not there. What's that? Oh, that's just a giant pile of blankets. Move along now. Nothing to see here.



People ask me about "It". I can feel them tip-toeing around the question. I have very simple responses sometimes. Sometimes I give an analogy.



Sometimes life throws you a curve ball. And sometimes life takes a baseball bat and proceeds to beat the shit out of you. When you can finally regain consciousness and open your swollen, busted up eyes, you realize you still have to play the game.



Sometimes life gives you lemons, and you can make lemonade. And sometimes life takes a cheese grater to your ass, then takes those lemons and squeezes lemon juice into your open wounds. Ouch.



Work is rough right now, with a foggy cloud of uncertainty looming over us. Some days I want to live in a bubble. Problems seem to pop up all the time. But whatever happens, I know that I have been through worse. And life will certainly go on. Maybe a little beaten up and with a lemon fresh ass, but what are you going to do? Just one day at a time. One rock at a time.

Let's Catch up on things.

Well hello again friends. We have not had a working computer in the house for quite some time, and Josh received his Christmas present yesterday. A new laptop computer, a beast of a computer, it weighs about as much as Tommy. Josh is so smitten, if the house were on fire, I think Josh would have to do a triple take between the computer and his loved ones. Actually, I think he would consider this computer as one of his loved ones now. I told him that I better not find the computer in my spot when I try to go to bed tonight.

So it is very wonderful to be back into the world of technology, I missed being connected to my friends and family.

Let's play the catch up game now, shall we. I am still working, although I am back at another store, the store I was at when I left for maternity leave. It's alright, crazy personalities out there that drive my patience to it's end some days. I feel like all I do is referee and mediate fights between grown men and women. Ridiculous on some days.

On the plus side, I am still gainfully employed so I should not complain about the trivial aspects of my job. A restructuring is being announced in the next few days, so we are all waiting to see what will happen. Who knows. Life is about more then your job, I just still would like to maintain my employment.

The holidays were okay, I loved to be able to spend time with my family, and Tommy on Christmas was adorable. I would have much liked to crawl up under the covers and stay until the end of the holidays, but it was about Tommy. Tommy is by far one of my favorite things, and he is just a hoot most of the time. I qualify that sentence with "most of the time". He is still an almost 5 year old little boy. He just told me to drink milk to stop my sneezing. He said my heart needs to be colder.

I think Josh installed something on his computer to ward off intruders, as I have been having an allergy attack since the minute I opened this thing. Sneeze!

I still have good and bad days. At work there are a few people that were hired after I left, so I have been meeting them and getting to know them. A nice man came up and told me he was very sorry to hear about my loss, someone had told him earlier. He said he would have never guessed that I had dealt with that such a short time ago. Sometimes this surprises me because I don't know anyway else to be at work. It wouldn't be fair to others if I moped around all day. Don't get me wrong, I feel like I spend so much energy at work maintaining a cheerful demeanor, that when I get home, I am spent. I have just enough left in me to spend time with Tommy, and some days just barely.

So until next time. Josh is off today, and so am I! Yay! I am going to make a nice dinner tonight.