Walk for a cure

So Ari and I are planing on walking the 5k multiple times to walk for a cure of renal failure.
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Letting Go

My daughter just turned nine. She is halfway to society’s vision of the adult age. She is young , vivacious, and still plays with dolls. Not baby dolls, don’t get me wrong here, but Barbie type dolls. Yet as young as she looks, and as young as she acts, she is growing up. My darling little girl is half way to her adult decline.
Watching her grow this past year has been difficult. Where her legs grow longer, her hearing has grown less effective. As her feet grow, her value in my opinion seems to be overshadowed by her own.
All I want for her, as an adult, is to be happy and healthy. I do not care if she ever marries, or has tons of children. I chose that life for me, she doesn’t have too. I hope she chooses a different life then I did. I love my life, but the road I took to end up where I am was hard, and I could have made better decisions.
She has already picked out her wedding dress, planned her wedding, picked her husband main attributes. She has her vision of who he is already. All little girls do this.
My mother married a man prior to the man who raised me. He ended up being more like a dark looming thought more than anything else for me. I rarely saw him, and if I did it was stories of how wonderful he was. All these stories coming from his own mouth, so who can really gauge the merit on that. She ended up divorcing this man when I was too young to know any different life and remarried the man who raised me. I had 15 blissful years with him before he was taken from us.
I followed my mother’s footsteps in a way. I married a man,had a baby,then remarried. My biggest fear is that Ariana will do the same. The fear she will marry a man who becomes sick and leaves her keeps me up at night. I want to tell her to not marry a diabetic, but who am I to tell her who to marry or not? Is that discrimination? To have a fear that my daughter will also marry a man who will leave her and beg she chooses someone I didn’t?
Is that me saying Tim is not an upstanding man? Is that me saying that I have regrets? I don’t have regrets in marrying Tim. I don’t , believe me. The life I
chose to live is not something I would wish on my own child. We ARE happy, we do love each other, he is what I wanted in most senses of a little girls dream. But I do not want my daughter looking into her future and seeing nothing but fleeting possibility.
That being said brings me to the main point. I am letting go. Letting go of what I thought I wanted and comparing who Tim and I are ,to who I wanted us to be.
Today at church I saw a couple during worship ever so slightly holding hands. I know church is where you come to learn about God, and to worship and praise him. The fact that they were worshiping yet touching each other ever so slightly was beautiful. I almost took a picture. Yet I am sure my phone would have made a loud noise and I would have been glared at. The thing is, is I wanted that.
Once upon a time when I was young ,back when my barbies were fighting over who was married to Ken and before they all died of AIDS…..yes I understand how sick that is. It was all over the news and quite honestly my friends and I were odd. Back all those years ago I had dreams of being married so long our picture would end up in the Guinness Book of World Records. I wanted to be so old with my husband that people thought we looked alike.
As a child I would watch couples hold hands and banter back and forth and I imagined my life like that. Now Tim is blind. He doesn’t hold my hand, he holds my arm for guidance. He doesn’t open my door , I open his. I carry the heavy loads because he is busy trying to stay balance due to lack of stability.

We have all seen Titanic and know the real couple that stole the show was the older couple who died holding each other. If you have yet to see the movie, oops spoiler alert,and quite honestly don’t even bother watching it. I wanted to be like that couple. Not in the suicide pact , give up on life and let the ocean suck us under kind of way. In the ” hey we are old and I want to hold you until I die” freak kind of way.
During the Christmas rush this heavy sadness hit me. I saw grandparents shopping for their grandchildren and I know that I will never have that. You may think that my husband getting a transplant will cause him to live normal and forever. It doesn’t. Most transplants like the one my husbands needs last only 5-10 years. That means considering our age he would need four to eight surgeries to get him into his 80’s. That is if we get one today.
I have a confession. Most of my friends are married. No that’s not the confession. I used to be jealous of them. They all have husbands who hold their hands. Why do they get to be seen, or hold hands , or grow old while I wake up to seizures, while I am unseen and used as a guide instead of held like a woman should be? Why do some grow old and some are forced into an early demise? I am letting that go. No more comparing and feeling envious of them. I am letting go the dream of growing old wi my husband. I am not giving up. I am altering my path. I am letting go of the thought of growing old with the father to my children. My husband. If we get the chance to survive this then I will relish it. But as of today, I am not longer held hostage by the stupid little girls dreams of years ago.
This has been a hard process for me. This “letting go”. Who wants to give up on their dreams? Someone who knows even the simple wishes and dreams are ridicules and unable to be achieved. Holding hands, Christmas shopping for the grandchildren, who wants to do that anyway? I did. I won’t be able to. Regardless of the turn out.
What I do have that most do not though is amazing. My husband trusts me enough to let me guide him. Yet I have walked him pelvis first into big rods before. He trusts me anyway. We flow well together,no awkward bumping , we follows my body language and knows how I move when I am approaching a turn or a steep hill. We may not have forever together , but we have now. A lot of people don’t live for now. They live for the future. Someday we will yadda yadda, one day we will blah blah. We get our yadda yadda blahs now. If you know Tim and I , we yadda blah pretty well together. I am letting go of what everyone else seemingly has, and embracing what I do.

Life as we know it

Cheer competition was on Sunday. Quite honestly I think the girls were on fire and didn’t miss a point, or stance, or whatever it is that cheer girls do. The judges disagreed,which is fine. Ariana’s squad won fourth out if five. I personally almost cried. The girls worked so hard,and they looked so cute and spunky. On the drive home I asked my dear Ari if she was okay with fourth place, her answer shocked me to the core. Most kids these days you would think would be sad or jealous. My daughter, my sweet daughter replied ” yes,it’s fine. I think those other girls earned their first and second!” She amazes me. There I sat ,almost on the verge of tears and my daughter is proud of herself,and happy for the others… I learn everyday through the wonderful heart of my children.
Well, now you know how she did… I’ll tell you how it went for me. Long story short…just picture this. My two boys, an umbrella stroller, bleachers that I ridiculously decided to go up, a bag that weighs at least three hundred pounds. Then right before it all starts,Lincoln needed his diaper changed. So down we go Ryker is being obedient at this time, but the second we get to the bathrooms, they are closed for cleaning. After waiting for what seemed like a year because at this point Ryker is rolling on the ground. Now I am sweating,and Lincoln is crying, and Ryker is refusing to move. Finally in the bathroom,it dawns on me… This is a high school. There are NO baby changing tables. Great. I could have just flopped him down anywhere and changed him.
Then the competition starts! Yeah fun! Cheer ! Cheer! Cheer! Of course Ariana’s group is last. So I sit forcing food down both boys hoping they hold still and stay semi quiet the whole time.all the while getting poked by Ryker. Lincoln runs out of his bottle,and Ryker tries to kick everyone and I hope that the girls hurry up, I want to see my girl cheer! An hour into it , I see her! I grab my camera and both boys cry and scream and poke and bite while I do a horrible job of recording the reason why we are all sitting on stinky bleachers in the first place. Never the less I enjoyed myself. I tend to enjoy myself regardless of what I am doing.
I swear Tim has me take the boys so I can see what it could be like. Let’s say he doesn’t get the surgery. I would have to take the boys everywhere. It would be crawling up bleachers with two annoying boys all the time. I don’t do sweating very well. Alone is not something I do well either. I need someone to argue with me, tease me, order me around. I like being a wife. I like being his wife.
Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a odd guy. He is pompous, opinionated, rude, and self righteous. That’s just Tim. He always has been. He love us though. Tim tries his hardest to be what we need. My kids adore him. Plus I need the help sometimes. I forget I am not superwoman. I wish I was.
Right now Tim wishes he was superman I am sure! He thinks he is passing a kidney stone. I think he has the typical pain associated with your kidneys failing. He has been crawling around and darn near crying. When I was I labor with the boys he would say stupid things like ” there,there” and ” this will be over soon”. Quite honestly I may not be a sympathetic as I should be. I get him water,and draw him a bath and wait on him. But the emotion of empathy is not there. It almost makes me feel bad. Tim just teases me. We are actually pretty mean to each other. He calls me fat,and I tell him to get a job. It is like our foreplay. We don’t really mean the things we say, we say it out of love, if you can believe that.
Any who, Ari did great, my boys are cute, and Tim is passing a kidney stone… And me? Well I am here trying to survive.

Unexpectations

Life tends to throw you curve balls. Like, when I got the call at work from my husband telling me to hurry and come to the hospital. He had contracted MRSA and they said he might lose his leg. Or the day he proposed I was on my way out to move back with my mom. Then there is the day he called me from a 7-11 and he said he could no longer see to drive. Our life has been filled with unexpectations.
Tim and I have always considered ourselves as little people. No,actually I am lying. Tim has always thought we are the hot shots,while I thought we were the peons. we live a very modest life. We have a nice home that is filled with more toys and love then furniture. Our walls display the hand marks of Tim and the children. Our kitchen is always full,but we tend to never have enough clean towels. We don’t have much in regards to material things, but our house is filled with what’s important.
Nothing thus far has really stuck with a plan. We tried for four years to have a second child. Tim and I counted days,took tests,and tried to the point where trying was no longer fun. We gave up. God had given us a gorgeous little girl,Ariana Skye. She is well behaved, kind,empathetic, and filled with this joy only kids seem to have. She is perfect. When we finally gave up on the idea of having a fuller house, Ryker Vincent came along.
That March we bought our home. It fit all four of us,had clean carpets, clean walls, and a very open floor plan. We couldn’t be more happy. I spent my pregnancy painting the kid’s rooms. Setting up the house with our meager furniture.It was glorious.
A few months after Ryker was born I had realized I was not satisfied. I was angry that a house ,two kids, and Blind, diabetic husband was too much it seemed for me to handle with ease.I had postpartum depression. Not in the way that I was going to hurt anyone,or I regretted having kids. In the way that with a mortgage, two children,a blind husband,and cars that seem to always need tires or an alternator was too much.
Odd since in reality my life is simple. Tim is on disability so our bills are paid,and we can afford to eat. But the little fun things never were in our budget,and children have expectations. I felt as if I couldn’t take care of my family the way I should. My insecurities got the best of me and I was mad. Lived actually. I would watch my friends and the ease they seemed to have to supply life making memories with their children and I wondered why my children had to go without. I couldn’t sleep,my anxiety got the best of me.
Then the minor OCD tendencies came into play. I had Tim smell the milk every time I poured a glass, he had to smell the meat even if I bought it that day. Everything was on my shoulders, if a bill was too high it was my fault since I do the finances. If the car broke down,it was my fault since I am the only driver. I started to have panic attacks. I would scrub potatoes until they had no peel just in case they had some germs. It was weird, I couldn’t change my own son’s diapers. I couldnt even do what every other mom in the world could do.
In August of Ryker’s first year I landed a great job. Well at the time it seemed great. I had the prospects of medical and dental in three months,and a weekly paycheck! We could go on vacations and take Ariana to cheer practice, buy the kids the things they wanted. I was living the dream. Two perfect children,a husband who literally loved everything about me, and a house that fit my little family.
Tim and I were on cloud nine. The first week of October in the midst of planning Rykers first birthday we were tossed another curve ball. I was pregnant. Not even one year after giving birth to my son I was expecting again. We were in shock. No, I am lying again. Tim was thrilled,I was scared. I had just landed a job that made it so Disneyland was attainable. Now all that “extra cash” was going to go to one more mouth, more diapers,and tiny socks.
Everyone who knew me well enough let me go through the motions of disbelief. How can I support one more? I thought God didn’t give us more then we could handle. I am in the midst of getting over my depression and we are pregnant again. How could this happen? I know what you are thinking, I know how it happens. It is just we had tried for Ryker for years and we thought he was a fluke.
We silently went through the pregnancy. I didn’t pick a theme,or buy anything for the new baby. I thought if I could just through the pregnancy everything would settle the way it should. In January they had lay offs at work. I thought I was safe. They couldn’t possibly fire the girl who was pregnant could they? They could apparently. I felt ashamed. If only I had not gotten pregnant not only could I take the two older kids to Disneyland,but I could buy them a souvenir!
Tim as always was more then supportive. It sickened me. How can he always look at life and see the possibilities? Didn’t he know that less money was not a good thing? He knew,he worried with me but instead of worrying outwardly he held my hand and let me grieve.
May was approaching, my new son Lincoln was going to born soon. I finally cracked. We were at target to look at baby clothes and I had a meltdown. I hadn’t enjoyed the pregnancy, I didn’t buy him his going home outfit. We hadn’t bought him one single thing that was just his. I had ignored him. I felt ashamed, I cried through out the store and filled our cart with things for my new son.
Lincoln was the easiest pregnancy,and delivery,and the weeks to follow after we was born were so quiet(except for the fact that Ryker found his voice and chose to scream all day). Lincoln was perfect. Big round eyes and little bald head. I love him. I am so glad to have him in our life.
June,ah June. I will never forget June 11th. We piled everyone in the car and danced all the way to Tim’s kidney doctor. We sang songs and laughed. Probably the most fun I had had in over a year. I got my groove back. I was the mom I used to be. Tim held my hand and we laughed about the silly things our wonderful children do. Ariana sang too loud, and Ryker was almost a good passenger.
At the appointment they crammed all five of us into a room. Luckily I had this app on my phone that made farting noises to entertain Ryker so we didn’t have to be that loud family everyone hates at the dr’s. When the doctor came in she was very kind. But the words were not. Terminal,kidney failure,one year,kidney and pancreas transplant. Words just seemed to rush out of her mouth. While the kids played quietly Tim and I sat silently holding hands and nodding.
On the way home we tried to keep up appearances. Ariana is very smart and if we show any signs of distress she will pick up on it. So we played the game of silly stupid happy family. She still doesn’t know. For that I am grateful. How do you tell your children that daddy might die? You don’t, you sit in silence and pray.